


Truth and Consequences

by obisgirl



Series: Different Destinies [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Emma and Killian's daughter is the savior, F/M, Michael's father is someone else., Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Male Character (Boy), and she looks like Emily Blunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 25,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obisgirl/pseuds/obisgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after his dinner date with Emilia Swan, Father William Jones can't stop thinking about her and asks Mother Superior for Administrative Leave from the church in order to explore what can become of his new feelings for Emilia.  But is there an 'ever after' in their future or a doomed romance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At a Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time characters are property of Disney and Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis. This fanfic is for pure entertainment.  
> A/N: Previous sequels, [Lessons](http://archiveofourown.org/works/712747) and [Dinner Date](http://archiveofourown.org/works/829932) and there's a fanmix at [8tracks.com](http://8tracks.com/obisgirl/truth-consequences-a-cs-fanfic-fanmix) accompany this fic.  
> From this point onwards, things are different from the show. I kept some similarities but it's a different story. For example, **NEAL DOES NOT EXIST IN THIS STORY.** Michael's father is someone else.

  


Father Jones needs to focus on his task at hand, working on Sunday's homily but he's having trouble writing it. Writing has never been a problem for him in the past but something's changed in the past 24 hours, namely a certain blonde teenager's lips on his. He wishes that he could stop thinking about her but he can't, remembering even that tight red dress she wore, courtesy of her roommate.

Clare Logan still baffles him. When he first met her, she seemed more than reluctant to even be in Storybrooke, claiming the reason she stayed was for Michael, the mayor's kid who also happened to be her biological son. She wanted to make sure he was okay and maybe get to know him a little. From what he could gather of her background, she's a former bartender and lived alone in Boston and the evening Michael showed up at her apartment, it was her 28th birthday.

That was weeks ago and now, she's slipped into staying in town and at Emilia Swan's flat of all places. And if the story she told last night is true, also his daughter with Emilia in a different life.

He still can't wrap his head around their alleged fairytale story, that he's married to Emilia and he's the son in law of Snow White and Prince Charming. It's just so incredible, not that he's never believed in fairytales but life isn't a fairytale. He has duties to the church and to God, he can't believe in such nonsense and he needs to stop thinking about her.

Emilia Swan is a gorgeous young woman, especially last night but he can't yield to temptation. The Lord would never allow him too, even if a part of him wants too so badly.

 _Focus William_ , he tells himself, _Focus_.

He switches his attention to the paper in front of him and the topic of his homily, quite appropriate for the occasion: _temptation_.

~~

One of Father Jones' greatest weaknesses has been his patience, which is beginning to grow very thin by the hour as he's still struggling with writing the homily for Sunday. The kiss shouldn't still bother him but it does and it's affecting his progress. Before Clare invited him to dinner, he had a page written and now, nothing. He can't even get passed that and he knows if he can't stop thinking about Emilia, he never will.

He sighs, standing up abruptly and paces his office before leaving it and going straight to Sister Mary Margaret's classroom. Sister Mary Margaret has always been a close friend and good confident of his, ever the silent listener as he would talk to her about different issues of the day and she would offer him some advice. He desperately needs her advice right now.

He finds her grading papers in her classroom and looks up at him as he comes inside. “Father,” she greets and stands, “Is there something I can help you with?”

He closes the door behind him and sits down at one of the front desks, and she comes over and sits beside him. “I have a problem, I can't write my homily for Sunday,” he says.

“Maybe you're trying too hard,” she offers, “Inspiration isn't easy; you have to relax and let it come to you,”

“Inspiration's not the problem, Sister,” he continues, looking sheepishly at her, “I was invited to dinner last night by Clare Logan, the new lass in town. She's staying at Emilia Swan's flat,”

Sister Mary Margaret doesn't say anything, looking curiously at him.

“The purpose for the dinner invitation was a part of Operation Cobra,” he says.

“Oh, you mean Michael's fairytale operation,” she says quickly, “He hooked her into dragging you into it too, huh?”

“You mean, you know about it?”

She shrugs, sighing. “Operation Cobra is all Michael ever talks about. Can you believe he thinks that I'm Snow White?” she jokes and he looks at her oddly. “I'm not, right?”

“He thinks – believes actually that Emilia Swan and I – were married in a previous life,” he breathes finally and he can see that there's recognition in her face, studying him carefully. “but it's ridiculous of course. Emilia – I mean Miss Swan is – if we were married – she's too young for that and I'm currently unavailable,”

“But that's not what's bothering you,” she prompts, “Something else happened last night,”

“She kissed me,” he says weakly, “and I remember when she did, I enjoyed it,”

“Well,” she offers, “Sometimes the Lord tempts us to make sure that we're on the right path in life. I mean, you once told me that the reason you became a priest was because you believed that there was nothing else out there for you, but believing in God gave you hope,”

Father Jones sighs heavily.

“You should take the day off, go to your boat if it's free and relax. Come back tomorrow and finish your homily,” she says.

“The boat's currently unavailable,” he says, “I'm renting it out but I do reserve the right to commandeer it when I need it,”

“Now, you sound like a pirate than a priest,” she teases, “but in all seriousness William, take the day off. I think you need it. Your homily can wait until tomorrow,”

Father Jones stands and is steps away from leaving when he turns around, looking back at her. “Thank you Sister, your advice is always greatly appreciated,” he says and she smiles at him. “I do have one other request, it's more of a favor,”

“Of course,”

“Could you talk to Emilia?” he wonders, “I have a feeling that she's probably in the same predicament I'm in and could use some helpful advice,”

“I can stop by her apartment after I finish grading my papers,” she says.

“Thank you,” he says again and leaves.

tbc


	2. Not All Fairytales Are True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not all fairytales are true, Emilia,” Mary Margaret adds, “I don't want to break your heart any further but I think it would be best, for both of you, to stay away from each other for awhile until this passes. Father Jones has a calling to serve the Lord and you...”

Sister Mary Margaret doesn't finish grading her papers, deciding that talking to Emilia Swan takes precedence, walking calmly over to her apartment. She's seconds away from knocking when the door suddenly opens and instead of the woman she came to see, it's her roommate, Clare.

“Miss Logan,” she greets, “Is your roommate available?”

“She's currently indisposed at the moment,” Clare muses, “nursing a hangover,”

“I don't need her to talk; I came here on behalf of a mutual friend,”

“He sent you _here_ didn't he?” she observes, sighing, “I already apologized to Emilia for inviting him to dinner but I mine as well apologize to you as well. But it wasn't my idea,”

Sister Mary Margaret notices Emilia leaving her room, groggily walking to the kitchen and looking very miserable. Clare turns back and lets the nun inside. However, as soon as she sees her, Emilia groans and hides her head in her arms.

“Emilia,” Mary Margaret starts, “First, I want you to know that neither of us – Father Jones and I – are not angry with you,”

Clare clears her throat and Emilia looks up at her. “I'm just going to leave you two to talk,” she says and darts for her room, shutting the door behind her.

“He told me that you kissed him,” she says.

“I'm not even sure why I did it,” Emilia counters, “Dinner was nice; Clare's a really good cook but the kiss – I can't decide what hurts more, the hangover or remembering that,”

Mary Margaret gently grasps her hand and Emilia starts crying. “It's not like I haven't kissed other guys before but kissing him felt different,” she remembers, “as strange as it sounds, it felt natural like somehow what Clare said was true,”

“Not all fairytales are true, Emilia,” Mary Margaret adds, “I don't want to break your heart any further but I think it would be best, for both of you, to stay away from each other for awhile until this passes. Father Jones has a calling to serve the Lord and you...”

Emilia frowns at her and she relents. “Love and life aren't always easy,” she soothes, “sometimes, it's easier to believe that we will find our happy ending in the most unlikely place and everything else will come together. But life isn't like that, Emilia,”

“You must be so disappointed in me,” she cries.

“Why?”

“Because all my life, you've counseled me to be the good girl and I've turned away from your advice, thinking that being the rebellious, stubborn teenager chasing after guys who weren't necessarily good for me was the best way to lead my life,” she cries, “I'm damaged goods, Sister and I've committed the worst sin: lusting after my community priest,”

Mary Margaret sighs. “I'll tell you a secret,” she whispers, “Long ago, I fell in love with a married man. This happened not too long after I joined the Church. We had a brief fling; he wanted me to leave for him but I wasn't strong enough to so I stayed and he went back to his wife,”

“Is he still in town?”

“He is and still married,” she says, “I see him sometimes and I remember, the pain of leaving him but I really loved him and I was too scared to rush into the unknown with him,”

“Does Father Jones know about this?”

Mary Margaret frowns. “I never told him, instead, keeping the pain locked away in my heart where it's safe,” she says.

Emilia looks at her curiously. “Why are you telling me this?” she wonders.

“Because I can relate to what you're going through: loving someone who can't love you back but you want him too,” she says, “I could say that it'll pass in time but that would be a lie,”

“You know, it's weird but all my life you've been the closest thing I've had to a mother,” Emilia cries, “And all I've ever done is rebel against your advice. I don't know why you even bothered sticking by me all this time,”

Mary Margaret shrugs. “I like to think that advising you has taught me patience,” she says.

tbc


	3. Time Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I fear that I find myself at a crossroads of faith, Mother. I left my duties early last night, hoping to gain some perspective and it did help a little, but I need more time,”

Father Jones arrives at the Storybrooke harbor and finds his boat, The Jolly Roger, right where he left it and its care taker, currently absent, he helps himself onboard. If the gentleman comes back, whatever his name is, he can sod off because he needs his boat tonight. Strangely, Father Jones has always found being out in the open seas very soothing, giving him more freedom than sitting behind a desk in the rectory.

He goes down below and finds a bed, still made and it's obvious that it hasn't been used in quite a long while which suits him. He relaxes back on it, listening to the waves slowly push back and forth. The ocean has never failed to put his mind at ease, something he greatly craves right now.

Like clock work, he starts to drift off and soon enough, sleep takes over.

~~

Sleep helps a little, but morning comes too quickly for Father Jones' taste but it's better this way, he realizes. He cleans himself up, fixes the bed before leaving his boat and makes his way over to the Church and a beeline for Mother Superior's Office. Before he can even go in and see her, he bumps into Sister Mary Margaret Blanchard.

“Father, good morning,” she greets him, “so, was I right?”

“About?”

“Taking a night off so you can finish your homily this morning,” she says, “Feeling any better?”

He smiles at her. “Actually, I had an epiphany this morning about exactly what I need to do to fix my problem,” he reasons, “I know what I need to do,”

“That's good,” she says, “Good luck. I hope everything works out for you Father,”

Sister smiles at him again and continues on to her class and Father goes inside Mother Superior's office. The woman's already there, she always is before anyone else. She spots him and smiles good morning. “Father Jones, what can I help you with this morning?”

“Mother Superior, I need to talk to you about something that's been troubling me the past couple of days.” he starts, “I need to take some leave from the Church,”

“But you're scheduled to give a homily on Sunday about temptation,” she reasons.

“That's why I need to take leave,” he says, “I can't give the homily on Sunday, Mother. I'm requesting that you put me on Administrative Leave, effective immediately,”

“Writer's block?”

He shrugs. “That's part of it, but there's another personal reason,” he reasons, “I fear that I find myself at a crossroads of faith, Mother. I left my duties early last night, hoping to gain some perspective and it did help a little, but I need more time,”

Mother Superior studies him carefully. “I suppose I can look over what you've written up so far and pick up where you left off,” she says, “and give the homily Sunday in your absence, Father. But I do hope, whatever's troubling you, you can work it out during that time and you'll come back refreshed, ready to continue your work,”

“I will. Thank you, Mother,”

~~

When Sister Mary Margaret stops by Father Jones' office later on the way to the ladies room, she's shocked to see his white collar sitting on his desk and packing a few things away. When he said that he had an epiphany about what he needed to do to fix his problem, she didn't think that meant that he was leaving the Priesthood. “Father Jones?” she cries and he turns to her. “You're leaving us?”

“Oh no Sister,” he chimes, walking over to her, “I'm asked Mother Superior to put me on Administrative Leave, effective immediately. I'll be gone for – well, I don't really know how long but I need this time away to figure some things out,”

He can see that she is somewhat relieved; he is too. “I hope you understand Sister why I need to do this?” he asks.

“I do understand Father,” she assures him, “It's funny, I've been counseling both of you for as long as I can remember and now, things are starting to feel different. This is probably for the best...I hope you find the answers that you're looking for,”

“I hope so too,”

tbc


	4. It'll Be Like Dating, Except Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sighs, walking over to her and kneeling on the side of the bed, looking at her. “You're still not hearing what I'm saying to you, Emilia,” he muses, “You've awoken something in me and I can't carry on like it never happened,”

Emilia doesn't sleep in very often but she needs to today. Clare's already left early, catching breakfast at Ruby's and meeting with Michael. That means she's home alone and she prefers it that way. She likes that Clare's a hand off roommate and gives her the space that she needs when she needs it. This morning is definitely one of those days.

It doesn't get any better when Emilia hears someone knocking and she groans, grabs a robe and walks out to the main room, opening the door. The person on the other side, however is the last person she wants to see right now but she can't exactly wish him away.

“Good morning Emilia,” he greets.

“It's morning,” she retorts, “I didn't notice,” She steps aside and goes to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. “No offense Father, but why are you here?”

“I requested Administrative Leave from Mother Superior this morning,” he says, looking hopefully at her.

Emilia scrunches her nose and looks at him curiously. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I need time to think over some things,” he admits. “I was supposed to give a homily on Sunday about temptation but I'd been having trouble trying to write it,”

“Then, I don't know why you're here,” she admits, “but I really need my bed right now, so good luck with writing that homily. I'm sure that you'll do a good job,”

He frowns, watching her retreat to her bedroom but what he does next, is equally shocking: he follows her into the room and she jumps and screams, seeing him as she's removing her robe.

“What the Hell Father?!” she cries. “That was not an open invitation to follow me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, “but I didn't come here to talk about my homily. I came here to talk to you,”

“I don't know why. You made it perfectly clear through Sister Mary Margaret that I should keep my distance from you and you're not doing that,” she reasons.

“I know,” he continues, “but the truth is, Emilia, ever since you kissed me I haven't able to stop thinking about you and that's a very big problem,”

She looks wearily at him a moment before walking over and feeling his forehead. “You think I'm kidding about this?” he asks.

“I'm not sure,” she muses, crawling onto her bed, “but I'm going to give you some advice anyway. Sister Mary Margaret always used to tell me, if there's someone I want to avoid seeing, the best thing to do is to do exactly that: avoid the person. I think you should take that advice, Father,”

“I don't remember her ever saying that to me,”

“Maybe that's my advice,” she reasons, “but you really shouldn't be here,”

“Emilia...”

“No, I was wrong to kiss you and I'm sorry,” she cries, “I shouldn't have done it, I crossed the line and you shouldn't be punishing yourself over it. I should be the one doing that; not you,”

He sighs, walking over to her and kneeling on the side of the bed, looking at her. “You're still not hearing what I'm saying to you, Emilia,” he muses, “You've awoken something in me and I can't carry on like it never happened,”

“Maybe you should,” she says, “Ignore it and carry on because it's like you said: you have a calling and whatever I might be feeling shouldn't interfere with that,”

“I don't want to ignore it,”

“What?” she cries, “I won't accept that because whatever this thing is between you and me – it's not right and even if I did return your feelings, it's impossible...”

Before she can finish that rant, his lips are pressed against hers and Emilia feels light-headed again as he pulls away from her. She's breathing slowly as she groggily opens her eyes, looking at him. “That was crossing the line,” she breathes, noticing for the first time that he's missing his white collar. “What did you do?”

He looks down at his collar and then back to her. “I didn't lose it or anything; it's sitting in my office back at the rectory,” he manages.

“Because of me?”

“Don't you think that we owe it ourselves to figure this thing out together?” he counters.

Emilia rubs her forehead, feeling a familiar headache. “You shouldn't have done that,” she muses, “Leave your job so you can be with me. There are people who need you and I'm taking you away from that,”

“I want to be here,”

“What you want, what you think you want is because of the imagination of a 11-year-old boy,” she reasons, “He thinks that we're meant to be together but that doesn't mean it's true. With or without that collar, I still know who you are and I can't easily overlook that,”

“I don't think my dreams last night were because of that,” he reasons, looking at her. “Emilia, if you're scared you don't have to be because I am too but I am not walking away from you this time,”

She rolls over to the other side of the bed and closes her door, turning back to him. “You do realize that is very dangerous territory, Father...” she starts.

“William,” he corrects. “My name is William,”

She sighs and walks back over to the bed, sitting on the edge facing him. “This is very dangerous,” she reminds him, “but I can't deny that I feel something towards you too,”

He stares at her a moment, trying to piece together in his head why he could feel a connection to a young woman like Emilia Swan. To him, she's always been the rebellious type, chasing after bad boys like her roommate says, always going against the odds but there's something about her, something that kiss sparked that he can't ignore anymore.

Emilia helps him on the bed and he ends up laying on top of her. If Clare or anyone else were to walk in now on them, it would ruin him but looking at her, he doesn't see fear in her eyes of being caught. He sees the opposite in her, a wanton curiosity to see what exactly she's gotten herself into.

He kisses her again and as he does so, he feels those tiny fingers of hers feel underneath his shirt. He doesn't know why but at the same time, he pushes her shirt above her head and reaches for the clasp holding her bra together.

Emilia feels around his waist, eventually trailing downwards to his pants and that's when it occurs to him, things are moving too fast.

“What is it?” she asks as he backs away.

“It shouldn't be like this,” he whispers and she looks at him oddly, “I mean, this is moving too fast. We don't know what these feelings are; we need to go slower,”

A warm blush spreads across her cheeks as she smiles awkwardly at him and she pulls up one of the sheets, covering herself. He backs away and sits on the edge, while she looks for a suitable t-shirt.

“I'm sorry if somehow you were disappointed...”

“I'm not,” she assures him, finding a blue shirt and putting it on. “You're right. If we're going to do this, we need   
to go slower,”

“Clare said that we are her parents,” he sighs, “do you believe that?”

Emilia shrugs. “I'm too young to be a mother and Clare's a good decade older than me to be my daughter,” she reasons, studying him, “but she does look a lot like you and she has an accent, like you,”

“I'm Irish love, not British,”

She shrugs again and grins at him, “We'll go slower,” she promises, “It'll be like dating, except not. We can't go out in public places but we'll find a way to make it work. And forget about that fairytale stuff; this is a new story, _our_ story,”

He smiles at her. “Indeed, it is,”

tbc


	5. Secret Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Jolly Roger, huh?” she teases, coming up to him. “The only thing that you're missing is a hook and the fairytale is complete,”
> 
> “I'm sure there's one around here somewhere,” he jokes and extends his hand to her, helping her on board. “Welcome aboard The Jolly Roger, finest boat in the harbor. She's a bit rusty, hasn't sailed that much but when she does, you don't even feel the waters,”

Emilia isn't really sure about the protocol for dating a man who is a priest; she knows cursing in front of him is out of the question and they have to be discreet about their affair. Which also means that she can't tell Clare about this, not now anyway. But she quickly realizes, it'll be difficult to leave the apartment without a valid excuse.

Clare's there most of the time, reading through Michael's fairytale book and when she's not there she's with Michael, meeting him at Ruby's diner.

Today, Emilia doesn't know where she is but that's not her concern. This afternoon, she plans on meeting William which would normally be easy to do, except that she knows he's not at the rectory. It takes her about an hour before finding her way to the Storybrooke docks and after some direction, she finds his boat, _The Jolly Roger_.

It's funny, she never thought of a priest owning a sailing boat but there he is, tending to it.

“ _The Jolly Roger_ , huh?” she teases, coming up to him. “The only thing that you're missing is a hook and the fairytale is complete,”

“I'm sure there's one around here somewhere,” he jokes and extends his hand to her, helping her on board. “Welcome aboard _The Jolly Roger_ , finest boat in the harbor. She's a bit rusty, hasn't sailed that much but when she does, you don't even feel the waters,”

She smiles at him and he beckons her down below into a small cabin. “So how do you manage to keep a boat like this on a priest's salary?” she queries

“I rent it out,” he reasons, “but I reserve the right to take it whenever I like,”

“Are we going anywhere special?” she wonders, walking over to him.

“We could if you like,” he says, “for an hour or two, or however long you like,”

“I'm not sure I have the stomach for sailing,” Emilia admits, “I can barely hold down alcohol,”

He shrugs. “We don't have to go far and we can always come back if you're not feeling well,” he teases.

Emilia looks briefly around the cabin. “I'm not sure I'm suited to go out sailing now,” she muses, “I didn't even know where to find you for an hour,”

“You mean like a bathing suit?” he asks and moves to one of the closets, rummaging through extra clothes before finding a red two-piece.

Emilia walks over to him cautiously and takes it from him. “I'm not even going to ask who this originally belonged too,” she says and he leaves her to change.

~~

By the time Emilia finishes dressing, she feels _The Jolly Roger_ begin to move and she comes up on deck, finding William maneuvering the ship out of the harbor. Emilia feels a breeze brush her skin and she leans into him as they sail. He briefly glances in her direction, admiring the red two-piece on her.

Once they're a nice distance away from the harbor, he switches gears and puts the boat on automatic mode and turns to her.

“How do you feel?” he wonders.

“Am I sea sick?” she counters, feeling her exposed mid drift. “No, but I'll let you know if I start to feel queasy,”

He moves away from the wheel and she steps forward, putting her hands on it. She knows he put it on automatic, so there's no need to worry about crashing or veering off course. “Keep her steady,” he whispers. “Starboard is right and port is left, otherwise, you can sail straight,”

She looks at him curiously. “How does a priest know so much about sailing?”

“It's just something I've always known,” he reasons and steers the boat left, putting it on full stop. “There's so much about life that doesn't make sense but the ocean, being out here, the world drifts away and there's nothing else to worry about,”

Emilia smiles at him and moves away from the wheel, walking around the deck barefoot. “How long are you on admin leave for?” she asks finally.

“Until I can collect myself,” he reasons. “This is new for me too, you know,”

“Do you have any food?” she wonders.

He smiles at her, beckoning her back down below and she follows him.

tbc


	6. Doomed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You could go a little higher,” she teases.
> 
> William allows his hand to feel her out, moving upwards and stops below her breast. His hand lingers there a moment before his thumbs feels underneath the fabric of the bikini, gently caressing her and eventually, finding her nipple. He watches her react to his touch, closing her eyes and breathing slower. He notices his own pulse slower and wants her even closer, pulling her legs to straddle his waist.

“I didn't think it would be wise to bring anything heavy since we still don't know how that stomach of yours handles eating food on a boat, so I figured mini sandwiches would work better,” he says, “I made turkey, chicken and ham, so take your pick,”

“I'll take the chicken,”

He hands her a sandwich and she sits back on the bed, removing the plastic and takes a bite. “Remember Clare's shepherd's pie with whiskey?” she laughs, “I really lucked out on having her as a roommate,”

“About our daughter...” he starts and she looks at him. “Clare,”

“You don't really believe that she's our kid, do you? I mean, she's a decade older than me and the math doesn't add up,”

“But if the town is cursed, frozen in time and we sent her here ahead of the curse, math doesn't really compute,” he says, eating his ham sandwich.

She shrugs. “True but fairytale characters? Us – married?” she reflects. “Somehow, knowing you, you don't strike me as a prince,”

“Oh?” he questions, “who do you think I am then?”

Emilia rolls her eyes and continues eating her sandwich, leaving a space for quiet contemplation. They stare at each other for a few moments, watching the other eat their lunches; Emilia finishes hers first and still, continues to stare at him from her spot on the bed. The distance between them isn't that far but he's not sitting next to her either.

She doesn't know why he's sitting across from her rather than next to her but Emilia's determined to do something about it. She crumples the plastic wrapper from her sandwich and proceeds to stretch her body, like a cat and he looks over at her curiously.

“Someone tired?” he ventures.

“No,” she muses, grinning at him slyly still stretching, happily showing off the red bikini he gave her to wear. Instead of moving closer to her as she had hoped, he stares at her from afar, admiring how nicely the bikini fits her. Emilia knows she has to change tactics if this is going to go anywhere. “Like what you see?”

He doesn't say anything but the smile on his lips is a pretty good indicator.

He still doesn't move an inch and she sighs. “What are you thinking about over there?” she wonders.

“You're beautiful,” he breathes.

She smiles at him. “You could come over here,” she offers.

He does just that, walking slowly over her and she sits up, giving him space. He's still staring at her but not touching her and Emilia shifts, moving closer to him.

“It's okay, you know,” she whispers, “if you want to touch me. I won't stop you William,”

He smiles at her timidly and reaches out, gently caressing her waist, letting his right hand explore how soft her skin is.

“You could go a little higher,” she teases.

William allows his hand to feel her out, moving upwards and stops below her breast. His hand lingers there a moment before his thumbs feels underneath the fabric of the bikini, gently caressing her and eventually, finding her nipple. He watches her react to his touch, closing her eyes and breathing slower. He notices his own pulse slower and wants her even closer, pulling her legs to straddle his waist.

“This isn't go too fast?” she wonders.

He looks at her seriously. “You were the one stretching seductively like you wanted something or someone,” he teases, “unless you've changed your mind,”

“I haven't,” she whispers and kisses him back, tugging at his shirt. Meanwhile, William runs his lips over her exposed skin and Emilia manages to remove his shirt, kissing every part of him. She doesn't even realize as she kisses him, she's rubbing herself against him and the moans are the reason why he's holding her thighs in place. He pulls away from her worriedly.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn't,” he assures her, “but maybe this is moving too fast, still,”

Emilia backs away and stands, searching for her clothes. “I think we should head back,” she suggests, not looking at him.

“Emilia?”

“It's okay,” she echoes, “I thought maybe you wanted something more and – forget it. Take me back,”

William comes over to her and holds her hands. “I do want you, so badly, you have no idea,” he starts, “I'm at a crossroads...”

“Stop,” she pleads, “Just stop!”

He frowns.

“You either want to be with me, or you want to go back but you can't have both, William. I won't – I can't accept that,” Emilia cries, “I know that this is a complicated situation for both of us but if you really love someone, then the final decision shouldn't be that hard to make,”

“Emilia...”

“Please William, I want to go back,” she commands again.

He sighs, puts his shirt back on and goes above, leaving her to finish changing.

tbc


	7. A Matter of Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary Margaret laughs. “I think what you need to do is step away for a minute and look at the situation,” she advises and he looks at her curiously. “These feelings, they never would have happened if you hadn't accepted Clare Logan's dinner invitation. She revealed – to both of you – that in Michael's storybook, you and Emilia are husband and wife and her parents,”

A couple hours later, _The Jolly Roger_ safely docks in Storybrooke harbor and Emilia is still miserable. She knew that having a relationship with a priest was going to be complicated, complicated enough to eventually lead to heart break. But she didn't think things would end before they even had a chance to start.

It doesn't stop the tears from falling as she lies on the bed, using the pillow as a handkerchief and it doesn't make her feel any better knowing that she's so very close to breaking things off. But the reality is, it's the only way to keep herself from being hurt.

Life is not a fairytale, she reminds herself, wiping away her tears.

She fixes her hair and checks herself before coming up on deck and finds him at the wheel, bringing the ship to a complete stop. He doesn't even look at her and it makes her feel even more miserable.

“Thank you for lunch,” she manages and he nods curtly at her before finding a gangplank, setting it out.

Emilia steps towards it and starts down but stops, looking back at him. “I do want this to work William but you need to make a decision about what you really want,” she says.

~~

When he was younger, the easiest decision William Jones ever made was entering the priesthood. He had lost faith with the world but the only thing that made sense to him (besides his boat) was turning to religion for answers.

That was then.

This is now.

And he's faced with an even bigger decision that could change his life forever again: give himself completely to love or turn his back on it, returning to the life he had lived for the past 28 years.

He needs answers.

His first instinct is to call Sister Mary Margaret, his friend and counselor.

He leaves her a voice mail to meet him by the harbor as soon as she's available.

Father Jones waits and waits, the most patient he's ever been but the silence is comforting. Soon afternoon gives away to early evening and he spots her walking down a path towards him.

“Sorry I'm a bit late,” she manages, “I was previously engaged,”

“Emilia,” he breathes and she sighs sadly, sitting down next to him on the bench.

“She's really upset,” Mary Margaret continues, looking at him. “but I'm not surprised either,”

He looks at her and she smiles, putting him somewhat at ease. “I figured when you said that you needed time away from the Church that it had something to do with her,” she says, “but she assured me that you're both taking things slowly,”

“A bit too slow, I'm afraid,” he reasons, “I need to make a decision, Sister and once I make it, I can't go back,”

“What does your head tell you?”

He shrugs, sighing. “My head tells me that I should go back to the Church and forget about her, but my heart says that I should stay – and maybe, I belong with her,” he says, “I hate tug of war,”

Mary Margaret laughs. “I think what you need to do is step away for a minute and look at the situation,” she advises and he looks at her curiously. “These feelings, they never would have happened if you hadn't accepted Clare Logan's dinner invitation. She revealed – to both of you – that in Michael's storybook, you and Emilia are husband and wife and her parents,”

“But that's impossible,” he reasons.

“True, true,” she admits, “but as soon as you found out that bit of information, your world changed. Suddenly, you became aware of a life that you never knew about and in the heat of the moment, Emilia kissed you out of curiosity,”

“I don't understand, what are you saying? That I'm simply reacting to a fairytale story and my feelings aren't real?”

“I'm not saying that,” she corrects, “what I'm saying is maybe you need go to the source and ask about your story, and then you can decide what you should do,”

He looks up at the sky, navy blue and much too late to bother an 11-year old boy at this hour about fairytales. Besides, his mother would not like it and she rules Storybrooke with an iron fist.

“I can't talk to him now,” he reasons.

Mary Margaret smiles at him knowingly. “You can't, but I do know that he drops by Ruby's every so often to meet with Clare Logan and if you ask nicely, he might let you read his storybook,”

tbc


	8. ...About the Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need you to send him a message to bring with him his storybook,” he continues, “I need to know more about my story and hers – and I guess, to some degree, yours too,”

Father Jones doesn't wish to bother Emilia any more but he still drops by the flat, hoping to at least bump into her roommate, Clare. Thankfully, when the door opens, it's exactly who he needs to see. Though judging from her peeved expression, she's not happy to see him and has an idea why that might be.

“You shouldn't be here Father,” Clare retorts, ready to shut the door on him.

“I'm sorry for Emilia, I really am,” he offers, “but I'm not here to see her. I'm here to talk to you about Michael's fairytale book,”

Clare looks at him skeptically before stepping out into the hallway. “If this is about what I said the other night about you two being my parents, you should know that for some weird reason I can't lie to you,” she says.

He shrugs. “You shouldn't lie to your parents,” he reasons, “but that's not the point. Are you seeing Michael tomorrow at Ruby's?”

“I might,” Clare counters which translates to a yes.

“I need you to send him a message to bring with him his storybook,” he continues, “I need to know more about my story and hers – and I guess, to some degree, yours too,”

“I'm not a fairytale character,” she adds, “Snow White's daughter and her husband had one daughter and they were forced to give her away but that's not me,”

He studies her a moment, seeing some of his features in her. The black hair and pale skin are a dead giveaway, but there's also her eyes that look awfully a lot like Emilia's. “Whether you are or not, I still need to see that book Clare,” he says. “Will you do it?”

“I will,” she muses, “but only to prove that you're wrong in thinking it's true, because it's not. There is no way my biological father is a Father and my mother is a teenager,”

He looks at her honestly and she huffs.

“And the fact that we even have a tiny resemblance doesn't count either,” Clare adds, “I'll see you tomorrow at Ruby's,”

~~

If Father Jones could camp outside of Ruby's, he would but that doesn't stop from dropping by at precisely 7 a.m when it opens. Ruby's the only one there and he has to wait a bit before she even serves him coffee. She doesn't ask why he's there so early but when the clock flashes forward to 8 a.m and he's still there, curiosity gets the better of her.

“Why are you here?” she asks, dropping by his booth.

He looks up at the tall brunette and he sips his coffee. “Coffee's the best in town, Ruby,” he smiles.

“For a priest, you are a horrible liar,” she reasons and slips into the booth, sitting opposite him. “You're waiting for someone, an early breakfast with Sister Margaret?”

Father Jones sighs. “It's top secret,” he whispers, “but you don't have to serve me anymore coffee. An egg sandwich would be nice though,”

Ruby shakes her head and leaves the booth, going to the kitchen to start on his order.

tbc


	9. Not Your Traditional Fairytales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The first thing you should know,” Michael starts, “is that these stories are different from the traditional fairytales. Snow White never ate the poisonous apple, the Evil Queen basically condemned herself for all eternity. Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter, Emma ---”

An hour later, he spots Clare Logan enter the diner and he waves her over. She spots him and walks over, sitting opposite him. Ruby comes back with his egg sandwich and she looks at her for another order. “Pancakes, eggs sunny side up and juice,” she says, not taking her eyes off her companion.

Ruby happily takes down the order and returns to the kitchen.

“Michael?” he asks.

“He's coming in a bit but I wanted to talk to you first,” she says as Ruby comes out with a glass of water on the house. She smiles at her before leaving again. “This thing with Emilia, you need to stop it. You shouldn't see her anymore,”

Father Jones leans back, studying her. “I think that's up to Emilia and I,” he reasons.

Clare shrugs. “It is but she's my friend and I don't want to see hurt more than she already is,” she adds, “this whole idea that you two belong together is ridiculous to begin with,”

“Why is that?” he counters.

“Because it is!” she cries, “Your basing your feelings on a fairytale, that's not exactly sound basis for a relationship,”

He shrugs. “And what if our feelings are real and it has nothing to do with Michael's book?” he challenges.

Clare starts laughing. “Now that would be something but if there's one thing I've learned about life, it's that fairytales aren't always the answer to everything,” she reasons.

“Why don't you believe in them?”

“Because they're not real,” Clare rationalizes, “They're bed time stories, fiction. Have you ever read a Grimm fairytale? They were meant to scare children into obeying their parents, teach them a lesson about life – and that life can often be cruel,”

“You really must have had a very bad childhood, growing up alone in the system,” he observes and sees her shift uncomfortably. “I'm sorry for that Clare but you're forgetting one very important aspect of fairytales: their other purpose is to give us hope and that is something we all need,”

Ruby finally comes back with her order as Michael finally joins them, fairytale book in hand. He smiles good morning to him and slides into the booth next to Clare, setting the book on the table but doesn't open it. Clare calls over Ruby again, asking for another plate and she gives her one. She slides two of the pancakes onto his plate and enjoys the remainder.

“The first thing you should know,” Michael starts, “is that these stories are different from the traditional fairytales. Snow White never ate the poisonous apple, the Evil Queen basically condemned herself for all eternity. Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter, Emma ---”

“Ah-ha!” he says triumphantly, a little too enthusiastic for Clare's tastes and settles down.

“She married a pirate – you, Father Jones,” he continues.

He looks at Clare and then to the small boy again. “What was my name?”

“Well, that's the tricky part,” Michael admits, “in this version of events, you hadn't become the person that you were meant to be. Destiny changed when Snow White didn't eat the apple but there was still a Dark Curse,”

“His name, Michael,” Clare pleads, “what was his name?”

Michael looks down and Father Jones is suddenly, very nervous. “Captain Killian Jones,” he says finally, “otherwise known as, in the real world, as Captain Hook,”

Clare stares incredulously between Michael and Father Jones, notes that he has both hands and glances at the book before she starts laughing uncontrollably, causing her guests to look oddly at her.

“Clare?” he asks.

“I'm sorry, Captain Hook, really?” she manages between laughs. “Snow White's daughter married the most dangerous pirate in fairytale land, lived happily ever after with him for a short while and later, gave birth to a daughter – who is allegedly _me_?”

Father Jones shrugs. “You do kind of look like me,” he reasons.

“It's true,” Michael adds excitedly, “Clare, this book doesn't lie. He's your father, your roommate is your mother,”

“And who's my grandmother? Where is she then if all of Enchanted Forest was cursed? My grandfather even?”

“Sister Mary Margaret Blanchard,” he reasons, looking at her. “I don't know about your grandfather but she's always counseled Emilia and I,”

“That doesn't mean anything,” Clare retorts, “I said it before and I'll say it again: there is no way that my father is a Father and my mother is a teenager,”

“But you can't lie in front of them” Michael offers, “there's a reason for that; it's because they're your family, Clare,”

Family. If the stories are indeed true then that would mean that Michael is his grandson and another branch on the Snow White family tree.

“And you shouldn't lie to a priest,” he adds.

“That doesn't mean that your my...” she starts, “Okay, we can settle this. We can. In modern age, it's called a DNA test,”

“That would be the logical way of doing it,” Father Jones muses, “but even DNA tests can be tampered with,”

Michael looks happily at him. “What would you like to do?” he wonders.

He eyes the book and gestures that he slide it over to him. “I think I'll borrow the book and read it for myself,” he reasons.

tbc


	10. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The princess is a stubborn lass, Killian Jones notices that right away. She's also the most outspoken and manipulative princess he's ever come across. To think that she hooked him into her sexual scheme in exchange for money...clever girl._

Clare leaves early and drops Michael off at school but not before the boy gives Father Jones the fairytale book. There's no mistaking the big grin on the boy's face as he hands him the book, happy to have another believer on his side. Father Jones wouldn't quite call himself a believer yet, but he considers that maybe there is something to these stories.

He brings the fairytale to his boat, rests on his bunk and opens it, flipping through the pages. He stops flipping through when he comes upon what he thinks is the beginning of his and Emilia's story and starts reading.

_The princess is a stubborn lass, Killian Jones notices that right away. She's also the most outspoken and manipulative princess he's ever come across. To think that she hooked him into her sexual scheme in exchange for money...clever girl._

_What he didn't count on though was that in the four days she's on board in his ship, he would start to have feelings for her. But what surprises him even more, is knowing that she secretly feels the same thing for him._

_But a pirate's ship is no place for a princess._

_He's not a good man, and certainly not right for her._

_If she only knew the real reason why she's there with him, she wouldn't even bother to give him a second glance._

_She would hate him for what's he's done and he would deserve all her wrath._

_But an honest pirate is better than a lying, cheating manipulative pirate._

_He doesn't deserve her, even though he wants her so badly._

Father Jones skips back to the beginning, the third sentence and reads it over again, specifically the mention of 'sexual'. After re-reading that word several times, he skips ahead and is floored when he reads more scandalous, sexually charged entries.

Michael reads this?

He did say these fairytale stories are different than the traditional versions, but these are not appropriate for an 11-year-old to read. He's almost tempted not give back the book, but then again, the book is his and he hasn't read the other stories.

His and Emilia's might be the only dirty story in the book, but that seems very 'iffy' to him at this point.

Still, he reads on...

~~

He sees some similarities between himself and Captain Killian Jones; both men love a woman they think are unworthy of, both are bound to a code to act and behave a certain way and the most obvious similarity is that they both have ships named _The Jolly Roger_.

Except his is more of a boat than a ship.

On Emilia's counterpart Emma, she's stubborn, beautiful, independent, mischievous young woman who isn't afraid to speak her mind. Emilia's possesses some of those qualities – beauty is not a problem because she is stunning but sometimes, he feels that she is less sure of herself and that's why she uses her feminine charms to get what she wants.

It was Emma's idea after her capture to string him into her sexual devices in exchange for helping him, but as he understands it, she did it to save herself from possible rape by his crew. She had two opportunities to escape and she let them slip by but as soon as she saw a third, she chose to stay believing that she loved him.

Emma's such a vibrant, spirited young woman, a fiery lass as Captain Jones put it in the book, but he also mentions that he doesn't regret a moment with her. In the end, he chose to tell her the truth because it was the right thing to do after which he confessed his love for her but by then, it was too late. Emma was heartbroken and reunited with her parents; the heartbreak eventually became too much for her and she ate the poisonous apple meant for her mother but the pirate saved her.

And instead of him proposing, she proposed on the condition that he was allowed to keep his ship.

But in reality, he didn't really need the ship anymore because he had a new love, the beautiful princess Emma and as Father Jones reads on, she's expecting a child.

The child, as Rumpelstiltskin prophecized, would be their savior from the witch's Dark Curse, but he needed her name in exchange. Killian was reluctant to give it to him but Emma was desperate, wanting to make things right and gave it to him.

Her name is Clare.

tbc


	11. Pessimist Clare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your life, why you're so pessimistic about everything. Why don't have you have faith or even believe in happy endings?” he wonders.
> 
> “Because there's no such thing as happy endings,” she retorts, a little too loudly and the door to Emilia's room opens and she steps out slowly.

It isn't too late when he arrives at Emilia's flat, waiting anxiously for one of the lasses inside to answer the door as he hold's Michael's fairytale book in his arms.

Clare answers and looks very tired and annoyed to see him, but she doesn't look angry enough to yell at him go away. “I read it, the story about Emma and Killian,” he says and she just steps aside, letting him inside.

“You're not even going to scold me for reading it?” he asks as she goes to the island counter and makes herself a cup of coffee.

“You came all this way to share what you found,” she reasons, “Mine as well get it off your chest,”

Father Jones sits down on the couch and opens to where the story starts. “For children's fairytales, this story is particularly dirty, it has so much smut in it,” he comments as she walks over and hands him an extra mug of coffee before curling up on the couch with the other.

“Well, Michael did say they're not the traditional fairytales that we're used to reading about,” she reasons and freezes, hearing Emilia toss in her bed and Father Jones looks at her.

“You didn't tell her about what I asked you to do, did you?” he whispers.

“She knows I see Michael every morning when I have the chance too and doesn't make it a habit of following me around town,” Clare notes, “but if she did, it would be very single-white female and I don't think Emilia's the type,”

He smiles at her thoughtfully. “According to the story, I am a pirate, Captain Killian Jones and I kidnapped Emma, or rather staged a kidnapping to make it look like someone else kidnapped her and she hooked me – or rather him into teaching her about sexual intimacy,” he says.

“You're right, not at all appropriate reading for a 11-year-old,” she notes, sipping her coffee. “Whoever gave him the book must have skipped over that story thinking it was PG friendly,”

“That's the thing,” he continues, “I asked around and no one seems to know where he got the book from. The town library's been closed for years – for as long as any of us can remember,”

Clare shrugs, blowing at her black hair. “Maybe he picked it up from somewhere, little boys like him can get into a lot of mischief. I mean, he blackmailed me into coming home with him. Clever kid,” she remembers.

Father Jones smiles. “Clever or maybe you were supposed to be here at this time. Rumpelstiltskin ---”

“You mean the little imp who spins straw into gold?” she asks laughing but she settles down, upon seeing his serious face.

“He prophecized that Killian and Emma's baby would return on her 28th birthday and break the witch's curse, restoring everyone's happy ending,” he says, “Clare, you're 28 years old,”

She rolls her eyes, still playing with her hair. “The fact that I'm 28 years old and came here is irrelevant. Like I said, the kid blackmailed me,” she retorts, looking at him. “Father Jones, I think it's cute that you want to believe in this stuff but I'm no savior. You don't know what my life's been like and trust me, it's not something I would share with a priest,”

He shrugs and closes the book, looking curiously at her. “Let's have it then,” he says, “I want to know,”

Clare stops playing with her hair, staring blankly at him. “About what?” she questions.

“Your life, why you're so pessimistic about everything. Why don't have you have faith or even believe in happy endings?” he wonders.

“Because there's no such thing as happy endings,” she retorts, a little too loudly and the door to Emilia's room opens and she steps out slowly.

Father Jones stands immediately as Emilia comes out, rubbing her eyes, staring back at him. She doesn't even look at Clare.

“What the Hell are you doing here?” she fumes.

“It's not appropriate to curse in front of a priest,” Clare adds.

Emilia glares at her and she takes another sip of her coffee.

William sets the book down and Emilia looks between it and him. “It's Michael's fairytale book,” he says, “I asked Clare to send Michael a message that I wanted to read it. I wanted to know more about our fairytale counterparts,”

Emilia looks at Clare again and she ducks behind her coffee mug. “I thought that you didn't believe in that stuff,” she says.

“I don't,” Clare reasons, “but it's important to Michael,”

Emilia sighs, tightening the robe around her waist and sits down on the reclining chair opposite the couch. Clare takes that cue, stands and prepares another cup of coffee. “So, what did you find out?” she ventures.

“Captain Killian Jones, allegedly – that's who I am in the story,” he starts, looking at her still, “Killian, he kidnapped Emma, she gave him a counter proposal to ensure her safety and they fell in love during their time together on his ship,”

“What counter proposal?”

Clare comes back with another mug of coffee and hands it to her roommate, sitting beside him again.

“She wanted him to teach her about sexual intimacy,” he manages

“And these are supposed to be children's stories?”

“That's what I said,” Clare adds before ducking behind her mug again. “They're just stories and they're not real. Fairytales aren't real. The only reason we know them is because parents needed to be able to discipline their children back in the day and fairytales were the best way to do that. It doesn't make them real,”

tbc


	12. The Truth Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am not participating in any kind of family social experiment,” Clare protests, “No offense to you two, I like you both a lot but no thanks,”

Father Jones looks over at Clare and then back to Emilia. “You know that your roommate is awfully pessimistic,” he muses.

“I'm not pessimistic, I'm being realistic. They're not real and I need more coffee,” Clare retorts before standing to pour herself another shot.

“They had a baby named Clare, Clare,” he says.

She shrugs. “Clare's a common name,” she reasons, “It's a pretty name. This Princess Emma and her husband just happened to have good taste,”

“Whether the stories are true or not, I have to agree with Clare,” Emilia interrupts, looking solemnly at William. “They're just stories,”

“So stories in the Bible, those are just stories too?” he fumes.

Emilia sighs. “I don't know, maybe, maybe not but these --” she says, pointing to Michael's book, “are stories written by someone with a perverted imagination,”

“You think I'm being foolish for believing that they're true,” he says finally. “I know it should feel like that I shouldn't believe in them because they are fairytales, and it contradicts what I've always known but it doesn't make them any less true,”

“Okay,” she relents, “Let's say for a moment that these stories are true. Then that would mean that you and I are husband and wife and Clare is our daughter. We can't exactly go around town acting like a family. You have your life or whatever you're going to do and I'm too young to be her mother,”

“Standing in the room here,” Clare reminds them. “You don't have to remind me how ridiculous this whole thing is,”

William studies them both a moment. “We should do an experiment,” he suggests.

“I am not participating in any kind of family social experiment,” Clare protests, “No offense to you two, I like you both a lot but no thanks,”

“What do you propose?” Emilia asks.

“Emilia?!” Clare retorts.

“Clare,” she says evenly, “You've been without your family for 28 years. I think you can spare a few to figure out if you've found them or not,”

Father Jones turns to Clare. “You said that you can't lie to either of us,” he starts and she immediately knows where this is going.

“No, I am not doing this,” Clare continues to fume. “I'm not sitting around for 20 questions. It's late, I've had two cups of coffee, I really need to pee and go back to bed so I can get a decent night sleep,”

“Let her pee first,” Emilia suggests and Clare runs for the bathroom.

~~

Clare's seconds away from a panic attack, sitting on the toilet seat. She really did need to pee but now, her mind is flooded. It's true, she's been alone for 28 years and even searched at one point for her birth parents but eventually gave up that search, reasoning if they never found her then they probably didn't want to be found.

She likes Emilia and Father Jones but she's sure that they are not her parents. She doesn't believe in curses and fairytales and there's no way that fairytales are true. But for truth's sake, Clare's willing to play along but on her terms.

With that in mind, she confidently leaves the bathroom and joins them again in the living room. They don't say anything as she stands before them.

“Okay,” she says finally, “We do this but on my terms. I can stop this at any time and go to bed, at least until the rest of the caffeine in my system wears off,”

“Fair enough,” Emilia agrees and looks to William.

“Why don't you believe?” he asks.

She laughs sarcastically and then turns serious. “Like I said, fairytales are fairytales; they are not real. Life is hard and there's no such thing as happy endings,” she says, “I know because I stopped believing in them a long time ago,”

“But why? Was your time in the system really that horrible?” Emilia wonders.

“Never mind, this is was a bad idea,” Clare retorts, heading towards her room.

“Clare,” Father Jones calls after her and she stops surprisingly, “This will help, trust me,”

She turns back to him. “My parents abandoned me...they didn't even bother to drop me off at a hospital, some kid found me on the side of the road and was in the foster system until I was three, when I was adopted by a family. Then they had their own kid and sent me back,”

“When I was fourteen, I started to wonder if my parents were out there looking for me and started searching for them. But eventually I stopped because if they wanted to find me, it would have happened already. I got out of the system when I was sixteen and did what I needed to survive,”

“I was alone until I met Michael's father. We were together for three years until he left me without a note, or a goodbye. I found out I was pregnant with Michael a week later. I knew I couldn't provide for him so I applied for a closed adoption. Then eleven years later, he finds me on my 28th birthday and begs me to come with him to Storybrooke, Maine,”

Emilia's already in tears before the last sentence as she looks over at William, almost in tears himself and feeling horrible for having proposed this. He thought that it would help her heal but all he's done is open a bad wound.

“I'm sorry Clare,” he says finally.

“I told you this was bad a idea. I'm going to bed,” she retorts, running to her room and shutting the door.

tbc


	13. There is no happy ending here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What we have, or think we have together – it's destructive William. Life isn't a fairytale and we – I need to stop believing that there will be happy ending here because the truth is, there isn't one,” she reasons, her eyes filling up with tears, “You should go back to the Church,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once Upon a Time characters are property of Disney and Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis. This fanfic is for pure entertainment.

“I think you should leave now,” Emilia advises, switching her gaze from Clare's door to William. “This was a bad idea,”

There's no arguing it was a bad idea, but Father Jones thought it would help him understand and maybe, even get to know the person who could potentially be his daughter. But it seems like, all he's done lately is bring heartbreak to people around him. “I'll go,” he whispers and heads towards the door.

He turns back and looks at Emilia, sighing sadly. “I'm sorry,” he says.

“I know,” she muses and he leaves quietly.

It's Emilia's turn now, walking to Clare's room and slowly, opening the door a crack, peeking in. “He's sorry,” she says, “I'm sorry too Clare,”

She doesn't say anything but Emilia hears her crying into the pillow.

“He thought it would help him understand, the book I mean and why --” but she stops herself and walks over to the bed, “It was unfair to put you in that position, Clare. I should have known better than to bring up the past...it's always been a sore spot with you. I'm really sorry,”

Clare continues crying into the pillow but doesn't show any indication that she wants her to leave.

“Be a good roommate for once,” Clare manages between sobs, “close the door and keep me company,”

Emilia's smiles sadly, walks over to the door, closes it and lies down on the bed next to her.

~~

Clare sleeps soundly throughout the night and as soon as dawn breaks, Emilia wakes, goes to shower, change, eat breakfast and before 8 a.m, she's out the door, leaving a note that she needs to be somewhere. That somewhere is on Storybrooke harbor docks, in the form on William's boat, _The Jolly Roger_.

She's usually not this impulsive – she is on most occasions but she didn't come here to get back together with him. Then why did she come? Emilia sighs, breathing slowly coming up to the boat and helping herself on board. He isn't even awake yet, or so she thinks until he comes up on deck and stops short, seeing her.

“Good morning,” he greets.

“Clare was really upset last night,” she starts, “I don't think she managed to sleep at all until 3 in the morning. The only reason I would know is because I kept her company the whole time,”

“I'm sorry Emilia,” he manages, “Please tell Clare the same too,”

She shrugs, sighing again. “This whole thing is really complicated,” Emilia continues, “but one thing is clear,”

He comes up the stairs and stands across from her, looking hopefully into her eyes. “What we have, or think we have together – it's destructive William. Life isn't a fairytale and we – I need to stop believing that there will be happy ending here because the truth is, there isn't one,” she reasons, her eyes filling up with tears, “You should go back to the Church,”

“What?”

“This can't continue. I know I said you have a choice to make: a life with me or stay with the Church. But I'm going to make it easy for you. I want you to go back because it's where you belong,” Emilia pleads, “Please forget about me, William,”

“How can I do that when I already know what I want?” he counters, walking over to her slowly, a tiny smile spreading across his lips. “I want you Emilia, I'm choosing you,”

“You can't,” she cries, “I won't accept it. I won't be the reason why you regret waking up tomorrow, wishing that you were elsewhere,”

He shrugs. “I want to be here, the story helped me understand that,” he reasons.

She pushes him away at the mention of Michael's book. “You're basing your decision to be with me on a fairytale?” she retorts, “This story, our story isn't a fairytale. There is no happy ending here, William. Why can't you see that?!”

“The way I see it, my story isn't that different from his,” he continues, “He could have chosen a different path but he chose to be with her, he chose her over the witch and in the end, they had the happily ever after that they both wanted – with each other,”

Emilia doesn't say anything.

“I'm making the same decision. I'm choosing you and today, I'm going over to Mother Superior's office and giving her my resignation from the Church,” he continues, “I want this and I think, we owe it to ourselves to figure it out together,”

“You have that resignation on you now?” she wonders.

He removes an envelope from his shirt and gives it to her. Emilia opens it, reads over the first couple of sentences and then tears it up, looking plainly at his shocked face. “You're not resigning because of me,” Emilia declares, “You're still going back to Mother Superior's office, but it's not to give her this. It's to say that you're coming back,”

William's speechless as she hands him back the torn letter and envelope before leaving his boat.

tbc


	14. Picking Up the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking hot chocolate, especially with a dash of cinnamon on top has always been a good pick-me up, the ultimate sugar high on any occasion and she really needs it right now. It won't erase or heal the pain in her heart but at least for a few hours, she'll be restrained from crying as the diner fills with people from around town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once Upon a Time characters are property of Disney and Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis. This fanfic is for pure entertainment.

Emilia's familiar with heartbreak and the pain and the sorrow that comes along with it, but this is the right thing to do. This is the right thing for him, she convinces herself. Still, instead of going to her apartment and spending the rest of the morning, crying on her bed, she makes a beeline for Ruby's Diner. It's too early for alcohol but she would rather stare at a mug of hot chocolate than drink whiskey or rum at the moment.

Drinking hot chocolate, especially with a dash of cinnamon on top has always been a good pick-me up, the ultimate sugar high on any occasion and she really needs it right now. It won't erase or heal the pain in her heart but at least for a few hours, she'll be restrained from crying as the diner fills with people from around town.

Ruby comes over with a new cup and she weakly thanks her. The tall brunette smiles at her and turns to leave, but stops suddenly, looking back at her. “You lost someone didn't you, Emmy?” she asks.

Emilia sighs, her lips trembling and Ruby slips into the booth across from her, putting down her coffee pot. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ruby ventures.

“You ever walk into a situation where you know exactly what's gonna happen? And then go into it anyway. And then what you're afraid of happens...you kick yourself because you should have known better. But that's just who you are so you keep punishing yourself,” she cries.

“Love can feel like that,” Ruby says and Emilia looks at her. “but if it's right, then everything will work itself out and maybe, you won't have to fight so hard to keep it,”

“I don't think he was mine to begin with,” she admits, “he belonged to someone else,”

Ruby pats her hand and Emilia takes it, squeezing it. “All I can offer is, don't do anything drastic to heal your broken heart,” the other woman adds, “you're still young Emilia. Losing your first love always hurts but there's a reason why they're the first. Love will come again and hopefully, you'll know better the second time around,”

“And what if I wanted him to be my last love?”

Ruby sighs again and scoots over, hugging her. “You know what we should do? We should have a girls' night out. Clare can come with too. We'll go to _The Rabbit Hole_ , have some fun, sing some karaoke if you like,”

“I'm not in the mood for clubbing tonight Ruby,” Emilia adds.

“I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone right now,” Ruby continues, “You used to enjoy our girls' nights out,”

She shrugs. “That was when I didn't have to worry about some guy breaking my heart,” she notes.

“All the more reason why we should go out tonight,” Ruby challenges, looking hopefully at her. “You can even wear that red dress I know you have stored in the back of your closet,”

The last time she wore that dress, it was for a dinner date with William set up by her roommate, conceived by Michael as part of Operation Cobra. But she does have other sexy dresses in her closet not tied to that night. “All right,” she agrees and Ruby's grin widens, “I'll come tonight but not wearing that dress,”

~~

“We're going out tonight!” Emilia happily declares as she arrives home, a very confused Clare staring blankly back at her.

“What?”

“Going out tonight with Ruby to The Rabbit Hole,” Emilia reiterates, “We all need a change of scenery and I think, a girls' night out is in order – especially after the disaster that was last night,”

Clare gets it, she does. Emilia needs this night out, primarily to take her mind off Father Jones and whatever her feelings for him might be. She doesn't blame her for wanting to unwind, plus Clare feels that she owes her. Emilia wouldn't be feeling what she is for him if she hadn't agreed with Michael's plan to try and set them up together, so technically, it's her fault that she needs to forget about him.

“Okay,” Clare agrees and Emilia looks at her skeptically. “We'll go out if it'll help you feel better. It's only fair; you kept me company last night and it's my fault that you're even miserable to begin with,”

“I'm not miserable because of you,”

She shrugs. “I agreed to help Michael in Operation Cobra, by setting you up with Father Jones,” she says, “It was totally fault,”

Emilia shakes her head. “Whatever, just be ready by 7,” she says, “We're meeting Ruby at _The Rabbit Hole_. And dress sexy; we're going to have fun tonight no matter what,”

“Oh yay,” Clare fake cries, rolling her eyes and going to her room.

tbc


	15. Girls' Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She holds her head high, walking confidently into the night club, arm in arm with Ruby and Clare lagging behind. They switched dresses, Emilia wearing a black lace and Clare wearing the red one, the same one she made her wear for the dinner date with Father Jones, which Emilia likes to think of as poetic justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I recommend listening to "I Want You to Want Me" by Cleo since this is the song of choice Emilia's singing.

Emilia and Clare meet Ruby at the Bed and Breakfast before walking over together to _The Rabbit Hole_. Emilia remembers when she used to do this every night, picking up guys, drinking and having fun. She would never sleep with any of them but she did like to have a fun time and why not? She's young, beautiful and suddenly available again.

She holds her head high, walking confidently into the night club, arm in arm with Ruby and Clare lagging behind. They switched dresses, Emilia wearing a black lace and Clare wearing the red one, the same one she made her wear for the dinner date with Father Jones, which Emilia likes to think of as poetic justice.

They find a booth and Ruby orders drinks, only Clare's not to keen on drinking but Emilia is more than happy to start ordering shots. All she needs are a couple before she inevitably drags her roommate and best friend to the stage for a few songs of karaoke.

Singing karaoke, especially bad karaoke is the second best medicine to mend a broken heart, Emilia reasons.

Three shots later and Emilia's standing by the stage, looking up songs in the karaoke book. Ruby glances over at Clare as she drinks another shot. “Hey, you're supposed to be having fun,” she says.

“I'm actually immune to alcohol,” Clare reasons, “I'm a bartender, you serve enough drinks and eventually, you learn how to counter drunkenness before it takes over. Is she really going to sing like this?”

Ruby looks over at the stage and Emilia's still there, trying to pick a song. “Yes,” she says and looks at her, “You're her roommate, do you know anything about the guy?”

Clare downs another shot. “I do,” she mutters, “but trust me, it's not a good idea to talk about it. She is my roommate after all,”

“Was he married? Did he have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?”

“He was married in a way,” she says, speaking figuratively. “It's complicated,”

Ruby shrugs, looking over again at Emilia as she finally waves her over. “Showtime,”

~~

Clare's very nervous as she follows Ruby up to the stage and joins Emilia as she sets the first song in a queue. She can sing but doesn't make it a habit of singing karaoke, as a bartender, she's heard a lot of bad singing, people singing off-key or trying to make up their own lyrics which sounds even more horrible, especially when those lyrics are still off key.

“What are we singing tonight?” Clare ventures as Emilia passes out microphones.

“I think you'll know this one, trust me,” she says and Clare reluctantly takes the mic.

Emilia steps up front, tapping the mic for everyone's attention. “Excuse me, excuse me,” she says and some curious heads turn towards her. “I'm Emilia, I'm sure most of you already know that and this is my roommate, Clare and my best friend Ruby and tonight, we're going to sing for you all,”

Clare nervously covers her mic and whispers to Ruby. “I'm not so sure that this is a great idea,”

“Too late to say that,” Ruby counters as the first lyrics pop up on an overhead screen, accompanied by a melody.

“I want you to want me; I need you to need me; I'd love you to love me; I'm begging you to beg me...I want you to want me; I need you to need me....I'd love you to love me,” Emilia starts, her body picking up the beat of the music, moving along fluidly before tossing over the next verse to Ruby.

“I'll shine up the old brown shoes...put on a brand new shirt, I'll get home early from work if you say that you love me,” Ruby chants, “Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying? Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying? Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying. Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?”

Clare can't believe her ears and her eyes as Ruby brushes up against her and shakes her hips, getting into the jive on the music. “Come on Clare, it's your turn,” she prompts her. “Next verse is yours,”

Clare hesitantly brings the mic to her face, breathing slowly, “I want you to want me; I need you to need me I'd love you to love me; I'm begging you to beg me,” she serenades, “I'll shine up the old brown shoes, put on a brand-new shirt...I'll get home early from work if you say that you love me,”

Emilia leans in closer next to Ruby, as Clare braces for the next verse which she knows they will all sing together. “Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying? Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying? Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying. Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?”

Ruby takes the second to last verse, messing up a little, swinging her hips. “Feelin' all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying. Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?” she sings, dancing across the stage.

“I want you to want me...I need you to need me...I'd love you to love me...I'm begging you to beg me,” Emilia's sultry voice pours over the mic, putting one arm around Clare's, beckoning her to continue the last verse with her.

Clare leans in reluctantly, echoing the lyrics, “I want you to want me...I want you to want me...I want you to want me,” but before she can get to the last line, Emilia cries loudly, “I want you to want me,” throwing up her other arm, eliciting loud cheers from the crowd.

tbc


	16. Awkward Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father Jones sighs, looking around the restaurant, hopeful to at least spot Emilia and then switches his gaze back to Clare. “That dress...that's Emilia's,” he notes.

Clare's thankful to get as far away from the stage as possible while Emilia takes a break, going to the bathroom to fix her make-up and Ruby as well, Clare's not really sure where the other woman is. But if Emilia drags her back to the stage for another bout of karaoke, she may have to leave early. Clare takes another drink, studying the people in the restaurant until her eyes stop at the front door and she sees a certain priest enter.

Really? She didn't think hanging out at a bar on a weeknight was any place for a priest to be, but then again, he wasn't dressed in his traditionally all black garb and he still wasn't wearing his white collar. Clare got up and casually walked over to him.

“Hello there stranger,” she says and he looks at her curiously.

“I am totally immune to getting drunk, former bartender and all,” Clare reasons, “What are you doing here? I never figured a priest to enjoy the night scene,”

He shrugs, regarding her. “I wanted to be alone tonight, but would prefer to blend into the crowd...are you here with Emilia?”

She smiles, drinking another shot. “She might be here but it wasn't my idea,” Clare manages, “Ruby saw how depressed she was earlier and invited her out, Emilia just dragged me along,”

Father Jones shifts uncomfortably. “I assume you know why she was depressed,”

“Typically, it would be none of my business but I have a theory or two,” Clare offers.

“It was her idea to break it off. She doesn't want me to regret leaving the Church for her,” he says, “I should go back and resume my duties...that would be the right thing to do,”

“but you want to be with her,” Clare observes, smiling solemnly at him. “This won't end well for either of you, you know that. You should go back to the Church, Father. It's where you belong and not out here in the real world, with the lot of us. Trust me, it's easier to believe in an all-powerful being than the messed up world we live in,”

He smiles and shakes his head, looking at her incredulously. “One of these days Clare, we're going to have to do something about your pessimistic attitude problem,” he reasons. She glares at him.

“In any event, I think that you're making the right choice,” she offers, “Love and life, it can get complicated very quickly if you're not careful,”

“Clare,” he starts and she looks at him, seeing himself in her for a moment but shakes off the feeling. “Love and life don't have to be complicated, they only become that way if you make them,”

“Love is messy,” Clare retorts, “often causing more heartbreak and damage than any drug or alcohol,”

“Surely, you must have been in love at one point in your life,” Father Jones reasons, looking at her, “I mean, you had Michael,”

Clare snickers. “Michael's father is not a subject I wish to discuss right now,” she retorts, “The reason I don't talk about him very much is because there's nothing to talk about. Trust me, he was no gentleman or hero,”

Father Jones sighs, looking around the restaurant, hopeful to at least spot Emilia and then switches his gaze back to Clare. “That dress...that's Emilia's,” he notes.

Clare looks down at the short red dress and then back to him. “It's payback for making her wear it,” she mutters, “I don't think I look very good in it anyway,”

He shrugs, not saying a word and Clare blushes dark red. “That's not even the least bit incestuous,” she retorts, finishing off the rest of her drink. “and with that, I think I should call it a night.”

On cue, Ruby rushes through the crowd and finds Clare and Father Jones. The older woman doesn't question why Father Jones is there, turning her attention to Clare. “Emilia's not feeling well, I'm going to take her to the B&B to rest it off so if you want to leave early, you're free too,” she says.

“I barely saw her eat anything when we got here,” Clare remembers, “it might be better to try and get her to eat something first before letting her rest it off, but nothing heavy,”

Ruby smiles at her thoughtfully and gives her a quick hug, nods her goodbye to Father Jones and disappears again into the crowd.

“I should probably leave too,” he says, “but thanks for the chat, Miss Logan,”

“Clare,” she says, “we've seen so much of each other lately, it's probably safe to say each other's real name,”

“Clare,” he manages, “William,”

Clare smiles at him thoughtfully and he ducks out of the restaurant, stopping as he sees Ruby helping walk Emilia.

It breaks his heart to see her such a wreck and he's knows that he's partially to be blamed for that. They both are.

Standing there, he wishes that his life were simpler and instead having to endure heartache alone, he would be there by her side and be the man she needs. But alas, that's not the reality, it's fantasy and he remembers what she said that he can't base his decision to be with her on a story.

His decision, his feelings, it has to come from him.

He knows what he has to do now.

tbc


	17. Confession of a Broken Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is another matter that I need to discuss with you Mother before I return to my duties,” he starts, breathing slowly, “The reason why I could not continue writing my homily and why I requested the time away from the Church,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time characters are property of Disney and Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis. This fanfic is for pure entertainment.

Sleep comes a lot easier for Father Jones as he settles in for the last night on board his boat. Tomorrow morning, he has an appointment with Mother Superior about coming back to the Church and resuming his duties. But there's a twist, he fully intends to come back to the Church but on his terms which means that he's going to confess what he's been up to in the past couple of days.

Mother Superior will either appreciate him for being honest with her and allow him to keep his job or she'll fire him. If the latter, William has a back-up plan for that and it doesn't include going back to Emilia but starting over. He has a boat and it can take him anywhere he desires, and even though it would hurt him to leave her he'll leave Storybrooke.

Leaving is the right thing to do, for her, for him, he convinces himself.

~~

Night passes quickly, morning comes and Father Jones, showers and dresses and makes his way over to the Church. He passes Sister Mary Margaret's classroom and heads straight for Mother Superior's Office. She's already there of course as he knocks on the door and she looks up at him, smiling good morning, welcoming him inside.

“Welcome back Father Jones,” she cries, all too happy to see him. “You've been gone too long. So, was your time away helpful?

He sighs, taking a seat as she sits back down. “It was helpful Mother,” he says, “and I am ready to return to my duties as soon as possible if you allow me,”

“You're welcome to come back of course Father,” Mother Superior continues, “I didn't expect that you came here to say otherwise. All your things are still in your office, I made some edits to your homily for Sunday but if you don't like them you can change them, or rewrite the whole thing, whatever you wish,”

“There is another matter that I need to discuss with you Mother before I return to my duties,” he starts, breathing slowly, “The reason why I could not continue writing my homily and why I requested the time away from the Church,”

Mother Superior sits back uneasily, her smile slowly disappearing at his tense voice. “Go on,” she says.

“The truth is I'm in love,” Father Jones starts, “and I've been using my time away to be with her but she convinced me that the right thing to do is to come back and forget about her. If only forgetting about her were so easy, but it's not. Honesty is a virtue, Mother Superior and I can't come back in good faith without being honest with you about why I was away,”

“Was the relationship ever consummated?” she asks.

“No,” he says sadly, “but I can't continue doing what I do when I still love her,”

Mother Superior stands suddenly and goes to the door, closing it before turning back to him. “I'm grateful for your honesty Father and I'll take that into consideration in what I choose to do next,” she manages.

“If I may, I think I already know an appropriate course of action: I think you should let me go so I can leave Storybrooke and start over, strip me of my collar because God knows I deserve it,” William reasons.

“I think that decision is up to me to make,” she says, “I would like to look into this further and I'll get back to you once I make my final ruling but in the meantime, I would not go very far. I believe all your things are still in   
your office, right where you left them. Stay there and I will come to you when I'm ready,”

Father Jones thanks her for her time and quietly leaves the office. Mother Superior sighs heavily, sitting back down behind her desk before picking up her phone. “Hello, we have a problem. I need you to look into something further for me and get back to me as soon as possible with more details. You don't need to come here, just e-mail me with what you can find,” she instructs.

tbc


	18. Witch Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should not be a surprise that Mother Superior's first stop in her inquisition is Sister Mary Margaret Blanchard's classroom. She's always known that Father Jones and the Sister have always been close friends, but she doubted that Miss Blanchard was the object of Father Jones' desire. If she isn't, Mother Superior is sure that she knows the identity of the woman in question.

It should not be a surprise that Mother Superior's first stop in her inquisition is Sister Mary Margaret Blanchard's classroom. She's always known that Father Jones and the Sister have always been close friends, but she doubted that Miss Blanchard was the object of Father Jones' desire. If she isn't, Mother Superior is sure that she knows the identity of the woman in question.

Luckily for her, she knows that Sister Mary Margaret's classes don't start until a little later in the day but she often uses the free hours to go over assignments and other things.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment Sister,” she starts, walking into the classroom.

“Of course,” Mary Margaret replies as she's putting away papers. “What is it?”

Mother Superior sits down at on one of the chairs opposite her. “It has recently come to my attention that Father Jones has used his time off to involve himself in an affair with an unnamed woman,” she says plainly, “while I don't suspect you Sister, I know that the two of you are close friends and he often comes to you to talk about different things. So I'm wondering Sister, do you know anything about this?”

Mary Margaret hesitates, conflicted about what to say. Father Jones is her friend but he's also a co-worker and Mother Superior outranks them both.

“May I remind you Sister that if you know anything about this affair, you will also be disciplined,” she theatens, “so I suggest that you be honest,”

“Father Jones is a good man, Mother Superior. He told you the truth; that should be proof enough that he is honorable and should be given a second chance,”

“That is for me to decide, not you,” she muses, “but before I make my decision, I need to know: do you know who she is?”

Mary Margaret sighs, looking away from her. “If it's over, it shouldn't even matter who she is,” she reasons, “He came to you in good faith, shouldn't that be enough?”

“Perhaps you don't fully understand how the rules work here when you enter the Church, Sister. Priests and nuns take an oath and when that oath is violated, there are consequences for their misconduct,” Superior threatens, “so I'll ask again Sister, do you know who she is?”

“No,” she returns firmly, “If I may Mother, this is a witch hunt. He confessed already, there doesn't need to be any further inquiry,”

She stands abruptly, staring down at her. “I know that you know who she is, Sister and when I found out that you're conspiring with her, you will be dealt with as well. Good day Sister,” she threatens, leaving the room.

As soon as Mother Superior leaves Mary Margaret's classroom, there's an incoming mail on her smart phone. She taps the link and opens it, reading through the message and quickly closes it, a big grin on her face before heading over to Father Jones' office.   
  
~~

Father Jones is really hoping Mother Superior makes the right decision and lets him go. He can't continue his work as a priest while he's still very much in love with Emilia. At least as a man, he's free to leave Storybrooke and start over which is what he wants. He needs to start over and hopefully with time, he'll forget about Emilia, find someone else to love and begin again.

His freedom is his redemption.

But that is all dependent on what Mother Superior decides. A cruel punishment would be to stay and probably bump into Emilia every so often, reminding him of the pain he caused her.

He needs to leave for his sake and for hers. It's the only way.

“Father Jones,” Mother Superior interrupts, coming into his office.

He stands abruptly, looking at her anxiously. He doesn't want to presume anything but he's more than ready to leave if that's what she decides. “You've made your decision already,” he observes.

“I have,” she sighs and gestures that he sit down. “First of all, I want to say that I do appreciate your honesty in this matter and with careful consideration and some soul searching, I have decided that it would be best if you left. I know you said that the relationship was never consummated but you still have feelings for her, whoever she is and that's enough to let you go,”

“You're free Father,” Superior continues, “You can choose to return to be with her or leave Storybrooke, though I do advise you, if you choose to be with her, your life and hers will be tarnished by this scandal. I hope you understand that,”

“I do Mother,” he says, “That's why I choose to leave Storybrooke and start over, elsewhere,”

“I think that you're making a wise choice, Father and I sincerely wish you the best of luck,”

“Thank you,”

~~

Twenty-eight years, almost three decades as a priest and now Father – William Jones can leave it all and start over. He's never been outside of Storybrooke and can't remember anyone leaving but that doesn't mean it's impossible. William looks down once more at the white collar still sitting on his deck, sighs and walks out of the office.

As he closes the door for the last time, he nearly collides into Sister Mary Margaret. She hugs him for a moment and lets go. “Mother Superior stopped by my classroom asking about you,” she says, “she said that you told her,”

William's hesitant to open the door to his office again, especially since technically it isn't his anymore, so he beckons her to join him in an adjoining classroom. “I told her,” he reveals and she shakes her head. “I had to, Sis – Mary Margaret. Honesty is a virtue --”

“Shit,” she says plainly and he stares at her dumbfounded. He's never seen her so flippant or even averse to using curse words but he has to remind himself, he's not a priest anymore so she doesn't have to watch her tone around him. “I'm not advocating that you shouldn't have told her the truth but what good, did it really do?”

“Mother Superior would have found out eventually,” he reasons, “I simply beat her to the punch before it became a scandal,”

He can see that she's still not convinced it was the best course of action. “I need to move on Mary Margaret, leave Storybrooke and start over,” he continues.

“But you can't leave,”

“I don't have my collar anymore,” William reasons, “I have to do this,”

“But the curse --” she starts and he pulls back.

“I thought that you didn't believe in the curse or that fairytale stuff,”

She shrugs. “I don't but if it's true, if you try to leave – something bad will happen,” she says.

“That's only if I leave the town borders but there's no barriers when it comes to sailing,” William muses, “This is for the best, Miss Blanchard but I have one last request of you before I leave: please don't tell Emilia. I don't want her or anyone else running after me,”

Mary Margaret doesn't want to agree to that promise but she understands the reasoning behind it. She sighs, reluctantly agreeing and he stands, hugging her one last time before leaving.

tbc


	19. Chasing True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The point is, I know you Emilia and you're not scared of anything, except falling in love. I wish that I had the strength that you do sometimes but if he leaves Storybrooke without saying goodbye to you and you never see him again, you're going to regret it,” she says.

It isn't like Mary Margaret to break a promise but it doesn't feel right to keep this promise. She has a lot of time before her first class starts so she slips out of her classroom and makes her way over to Emilia's apartment. She could have simply called Emilia but this is something that she needs to do in person. Mary Margaret has high hopes as the door finally opens but drops when she realizes it isn't Emilia, but her roommate, Clare.

“Is Emilia home?” she ventures.

Clare's reluctant to say but the look on her face puts her at ease. “She is,” Clare says, “What's this about?”

“He's leaving Storybrooke,” Mary Margaret says, “Father – William is leaving. He asked me not to tell Emilia but I have this terrible feeling, if he leaves something bad will happen and he can't leave her without saying goodbye. I know that he still loves her,”

“What?” Clare and Emilia find themselves saying as Emilia suddenly appears behind her.

“He's leaving?” she echoes, “When?”

Mary Margaret steps inside and comes over to Emilia. “Mother Superior let him go, he told her about the affair because he couldn't come back to work with that on his conscious. He gave her the option of letting him go and she took it and now, he's leaving Storybrooke but the curse, Emilia, if the curse is true then something bad will happen to him. You have to go to him and get him to stay,” she rants.

“Wait a minute, slow down,” Clare interrupts, “The curse, it's not real,”

“It may not be but if it is, then he's doomed,” Mary Margaret reasons, “Please Emilia, you have to go to him. You have to stop him,”

Emilia looks between Clare and Mary Margaret. William needs to start over somewhere new, away from her. If she goes to him and pleads for him to stay, it'll only cause more harm than good. She knows this couldn't have been an easy decision to make, to leave the Church and everything he knows. He made this decision, although she would have preferred that he hadn't told the truth.

“I'm not sure that I should go to him,” she says finally, “I can't interfere with any decision that he's made,”

“Shit,” Mary Margaret curses and Clare looks at her oddly, “This is only the second time I've cursed today and I'm beginning to see why it grabs people's attention but Emilia, you cannot let him leave,”

“One, nuns do not curse and two, you probably have to cite like 20 Hail Mary's later,” Clare says, “but I have to agree with Emilia. I don't think it's her place to go to him and ask him to stay,”

“Do you love him?” she asks.

Emilia sighs, looking away from her, muttering that she does.

“I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that response Emilia,”

“Yes, I love him,” she says more loudly, “but I can't ask him to stay. He's already lost so much because of me and it seems unfair to create further complications in his life if I go to him,”

Mary Margaret takes Emilia aside, bracing her hands. “Emilia, remember what I said about that married man I fell in love? He asked me to leave the Church for him but I chose to stay and he went back to his wife. I didn't leave because I was scared too. I was scared of what my life would have been if I left with him,”

“So you're living vicariously through me now?”

“The point is, I know you Emilia and you're not scared of anything, except falling in love. I wish that I had the strength that you do sometimes but if he leaves Storybrooke without saying goodbye to you and you never see him again, you're going to regret it,” she says.

“Emilia,” Clare adds, “Let him go. He can start over, be a new person and fall in love again, and you can move on with your life,”

“And what if I don't want him to fall in love with someone else?” she questions, “What if I don't want to love anyone else but him? Mary Margaret's right,”

“Wow, wait a minute!” Clare cries but Emilia's already heading to the door, “Emilia, think about this! Is this really what you want?”

“Clare, I have to do this...I love him and he's a jerk for wanting to leave without saying goodbye to me,” she declares before rushing out.

Clare sighs exasperatedly, throwing up her arms. “Is there seriously no sense in this town?” she cries, “My roommates running after man she's only been in love with for a few days and you believe that the town's cursed. Have you even read Michael's book? I mean, Emma and Killian's story is dirty, even for a children's story,”

Mary Margaret shrugs. “Sometimes, believing in fairytales is stronger than faith,” she reasons and looks back at her, “If we're all cursed to never experience true happiness or live out our happy endings, then what kind of life is that? We all need to believe in happy endings. These stories give us hope Clare,”

“You really believe that?”

“People need hope Clare,” she muses, “Life doesn't always make sense but these stories, they do,”

Clare crosses her arms, studying the other woman carefully. “Who does Michael think you are in the book?”

“Snow White,” she reasons.

“If you're Snow White, then the guy – the one that asked you run away with him all those years ago – that's Prince Charming and that would make you both – my grandparents,” Clare muses, staring at her. “I'm not sure I'm ready to believe that,”

“Then when Clare?” she counters.

tbc


	20. Broken Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don't want you to go,” Emilia admits, “When I said that you needed to make a choice, either me or the Church, I didn't mean that you should tell Mother Superior the truth and leave the Church anyway, and me,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time characters are property of Disney and Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis. This fanfic is for pure entertainment.

“Thank you for all your help Madam Mayor,” Mother Superior starts as she happily gives her a cup of tea. The Mayor smiles kindly, sitting down opposite her, enjoying a glass of apple cider. “I hope it wasn't too much trouble for you to keep tabs on the whereabouts of Father Jones during his week off,”

“Not a problem at all,” she says, “I strongly believe in keeping the right people for the right job, that includes our Church, Mother Superior. Now Storybrooke will be rid of a tainted priest, I'm sure another one will come along and everything will go back to normal,”

The Mayor slips her a vanilla envelope and Mother Superior puts down her tea, reaching for it but the Mayor pulls it back teasingly, smiling coyly. “I trust that this will stay between us, Mother Superior,”

“Of course Mayor Mills,” Mother promises and Mariana Mills slides over the envelope. Mother Superior tentatively opens the envelope and squints, looking over the pictures. There's Father Jones, talking to a blond woman on his boat but the pictures, unfortunately, don't give much away as to the identity of the mystery woman.

“It's difficult to see who she is,”

Mariana shrugs, taking another sip of her apple cider. “You don't really have to worry about that Mother,” she offers and she looks at her curiously, “The purpose and the intent of the pictures are clear, Father Jones broke his vows and these are proof of that, and you may use them at your discretion if she or he become a bigger problem for you in the future,”

“Thank you again Madame Mayor, your assistance has been most useful in this matter,” Mother continues, “I still have some concerns about the girl...”

“Yes her,” Mariana muses, flicking her fingers, “I wouldn't worry about her too much. She's a girl and has a less than shady reputation. I wouldn't concern yourself with her,”

“But he's leaving and she's staying,” Superior reasons, “What she's done to the Church – it should be exposed,”

“That'll happen Mother, in due time,” Mariana promises, “but what's important is that you've rid yourself of a man whose broken his vows to you and the Church. Now would you like anything else? I made some chocolate chip cookies and sandwiches,”

“That sounds lovely,”

~~

Michael doesn't know why his mom is entertaining Mother Superior downstairs in the study, especially since Mariana invites very few people over but the young boy suspects, it can't be good. His mom is the evil witch after all and she cast the Dark Curse to take away all the fairytale characters' happy endings.

He stealthily sneaks downstairs and goes into the kitchen, hearing distance from the study. He ducks behind the refrigerator when she walks in suddenly and picks up two trays, one of cookies and the other of finger sandwiches.

As soon as she's gone, he ducks out from behind the refrigerator and walks over to the counter, noting another baking tray. He lifts the paper paper slowly and quickly recoils before lifting the paper higher, revealing a large apple turnover.

Michael rushes over and removes a ziplock bag from a drawer and puts the apple turnover inside. He checks again if his mom is coming back and when he hears that she's still in the study with Mother Superior, he sneaks out the back door leading to the garage, grabs his bike, puts the baggy in a basket and rides away.

~~

Emilia finds him exactly where she expects to, readying The Jolly Roger for departure though it's clear when he sees her that he wasn't expecting to see her. Emilia doesn't even bother to ask for permission to come aboard and helps herself on board as he stares after her.

“So, you were just going to leave without even saying goodbye?” she cries.

William looks away from her. “I made Sister Mary Margaret promise not to tell you,” he whispers.

“Why? Because you couldn't tell me yourself?” Emilia still cries, “which by the way is a very jerk thing to do, even for a former Priest,”

“I didn't want to tell you because I wanted to spare you the hurt,” he reflects, “which wasn't the jerk thing to do, it was the gentleman thing to do,”

She shrugs. “Either way, I think it was selfish,” she retorts, standing up to him. “How can you just leave someone you supposedly care about without saying goodbye?”

“I thought it would be easier on both of us if we didn't,” William retorts, looking at her, “and because I do care about you, I still do but that's not the point. I have to leave so I can start over, so you can move on with your life and...”

“and forget about you?” she finishes, “what if I don't want you to leave? Would you stay if I asked you?”

He shrugs. “I can't, Emilia, even if you asked me,” he reasons.

“I don't want you to go,” Emilia admits, “When I said that you needed to make a choice, either me or the Church, I didn't mean that you should tell Mother Superior the truth and leave the Church anyway, and me,”

William looks at her curiously. “What did you think would happen? That I would go back and not tell her?”

“Yes, because at least then, you would still be here,” she cries.

“I can't stay Emilia,” he repeats, “I'm sorry,”

“You're running William, the same way I tried to forget about you by going with Ruby and Clare the other night, except you're running in the literal sense,”

“They're not the same thing Emilia,” he retorts, “And I don't drown my sorrows in alcohol and karaoke,”

She frowns, studying him a moment, shakes her head and looks at him. “You were there?”

He shrugs. “Not during the performance but I did have a conversation with Clare after, then Ruby interrupted saying you weren't feeling well and she was taking you to the B&B for rest,” he says, “I assume because of too much alcohol and not enough to eat. A young lady like you shouldn't drink that much, especially since it obviously doesn't agree with you,”

“So now you're lecturing me about how to live my life?”

“Living your life is exactly what you should be doing Emilia,” he retorts, “This whole thing was doomed from the start,”

Emilia sighs, tears staining her cheeks. “but I love you,”

“I love you too,” he sighs, “but I still can't stay Emilia. I'm sorry. Please leave so I can be on my way,”

Emilia turns to leave, helping herself off the boat and gets down to the dock, looking back at him. “I hope you have a smooth trip and you find whatever it is that you're looking for William,” she says.

tbc


	21. History Repeating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clare doesn't believe in much but she does know that one simply does not collapse onto the floor after eating an apple turnover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once Upon a Time characters are property of Disney and Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis. This fanfic is for pure entertainment.

Clare doesn't believe in curses, fairytales and happily ever afters. She stopped believing in them a long time ago and she's convinced, it's not healthy to believe in them as an adult. Life rarely works out the way it's supposed too. She learned that lesson long ago. There's no such thing as happy endings or true love's kiss. She doesn't people believe are innately evil, but not everyone is good either.

But for whatever reason, Michael believes in the curse and she's there to help all of them, starting with her alleged parents. She's not convinced about the curse but deep down, there's a part of her that wants it to be true; that the girl she's spent the last couple of weeks living with is actually her mother and a confused former priest is her father.

And then Clare reminds herself, the part of her grounded in reality, that it's not possible. These people are not her family, her parents are not fairytale characters.

Still, Michael is more than happy to interrupt her reverie. Clare groans, walking over to the front door, looking down at an exhausted little boy.

“This is an Operation Cobra emergency,” he cries, “where's Emilia?”

“She's not here,” Clare says, “Kid, what's wrong? Why are out of breath? Did you run all the way here?”

He shrugs. “Run – no, bike – yes,” he says, walking passed her into the apartment. “Do you know what's going on at my house right now?”

Clare closes the door behind him, walking to the kitchen to make herself some tea because she needs it. “I don't know what's going on at your house, Michael. Why don't you tell me?” she says flatly.

“My mom is there with Mother Superior, they're plotting something together and I think it has to do with Father Jones and Emilia,” the boy reasons, putting down his backpack on the couch and opens it, removing the ziplock bag of the apple turnover. “Do you know what this is?”

“Looks like an apple turnover,” she reasons, “I used to like those when I was a kid. Is it for me?”

“This is poison,” Michael whispers, “cause that's what the witch used on your mom at her lowest. She offered her a poisonous apple and she ate it because she was heartbroken over loosing Killian. I think my mom planned to give it to Emilia,”

“Kid, my roommate is not my mum, Father Jones is not my dad and your mom is not the evil witch,” Clare reasons, “You have to let go of this fairytale stuff. It's not real, the curse isn't real,”

Michael scowls, staring coldly back at her. “Where's Father Jones?”

Clare sighs. “He's leaving Storybrooke, Mother Superior let him go because of the affair,”

“Leave? No – he can't leave Storybrooke! None of them can. Clare, if he tries to leave something bad will happen. He could die,” Michael cries, “You have to stop him!”

“It's not my place to stop him, Michael and quite frankly, I think that he should leave. At least then, he can start over somewhere else and forget about Emilia,”

Michael calms somewhat but Clare knows him better. He's already putting two and two together. “Where's Emilia?” he questions.

Clare sighs. “Sister Mary Margaret was over here earlier, said that Father Jones was leaving and convinced her to go after him. I suppose she's down by the dock now, trying to convince him to stay,” she says, “Look kid, I know you want to believe so badly in these fairytales but this is real life and real life doesn't happen the same way,”

“So she's with him now, trying to convince him to stay?”

She shrugs. “Or she failed and he's leaving anyway, in which case, she's probably nursing a severe hangover right now,”

“Mary Margaret, Father Jones and Emilia believe in the curse – that's good because that makes it weaker,” he reasons, “but you're the key to breaking it Clare. You have to believe in it. You're the Savior, you're the one who's going to bring back the happy endings,”

“I'm sorry kid, I really am but this fairytale obsession has gone on long enough. Your book, they're just stories – it doesn't make them real,”

Michael stares back at her a moment before opening the baggie and removing the apple turnover. “You may not believe in the curse but I believe in you,” he cries, taking a bite of the pastry, chewing slowly.

Clare sighs, watching him eat the turnover. When nothing happens, she looks solemnly at him. “See? You want some ice cream with that and then we go back to talking about --” she starts, but is floored when he suddenly collapses.

“Michael? Michael?!” she cries.

~~

Love sucks, Emilia decides, finding herself at The Rabbit Hole at 9 a.m. It's too early to drink but she's too numb to walk herself back to the apartment and crawl into bed and cry herself to sleep. Besides, Ruby's B&B isn't too far away and she can always crash there if she needs to.

The bartender looks wearily at her as she asks if she can order a cocktail. Emilia starts looking for her ID but stops when she realizes that she left the apartment without grabbing her purse and she asks for a Shirley Temple instead. The bartender starts working on her drink and Emilia hides her face in her arms.

She remembers kissing William for the first time, how impulsive it was and then him coming to her later, saying how he couldn't get her out of his mind. In all, their affair didn't last that long – only about a day and a half but in that short time, Emilia fell in love with him and he fell in love with her. But instead of staying, he's leaving Storybrooke and she's stuck there, mourning his absence.

The bartender comes back with her Shirley Temple and Emilia looks at him. “Love sucks,” she mutters, sipping the cocktail. “It's good when it's good but when it ends badly, you feel like crap,”

He shrugs.

“I mean, he didn't have to leave but he had to do the most self-righteous thing he could think of. But it's selfish,” she continues to rant, “and can you believe that he didn't want to say goodbye to me? Me? I mean, we didn't know each other that long but I thought that he cared enough about me that he'd tell me that he was leaving, so I could say goodbye,”

The bartender sighs, wiping down the counter.

“He's just – such a man, always wanting to do the right even if the right thing is the wrong thing, you know what I mean?”

He shrugs again.

Emilia sips at her cocktail again. “I loved him so much, he even admitted that he loves me too but he still left,” she cries, “I ran to find him and tried my best to convince him to stay but it wasn't enough. I guess there are more powerful things in this universe than love,”

The bartender shrugs and goes back to work.

“Love definitely sucks,” she cries, taking a long sip of her non-alcoholic Shirley Temple.

~~

Clare doesn't believe in much but she does know that one simply does not collapse onto the floor after eating an apple turnover. She remembers leaning down and checking his pulse, listening for his breath in case he might have been faking the whole thing but when she didn't see his chest rise and fall, or even feel a weak pulse; that's when Clare knew that she needed to get Michael to the hospital as soon as possible.

Nurses took him off her hands, helping him into a gurney as Clare followed them to the emergency room. That's where Dr. Hyde was, looking worriedly between the child and Clare. Hyde leaned over the bed, removing a pen flash light, checking his eyes. “There’s no pupil response. What happened? Did he fall? Hit his head?”

Clare holds up the baggie with the apple turnover. “He ate this. I think it’s poisoned,” she cries.

Hyde looks curiously at the not-dangerous apple turnover and then back to Michael, opening the boys mouth but doesn't see anything. “His airway’s clear. Did he vomit? Any convulsion or disorientation?” he asks.

“He took a bite of this, and then he just collapsed. So, run the test for arsenic, or bleach, or Drano, or whatever could’ve done this to him!” Clare cries.

“The boy is showing no symptoms that would suggest neurotoxins. So, whatever’s going on, this is not the culprit,” he deduces.

Clare doesn't believe that. She was there, she saw him eat the apple turnover and fall to the floor. The turnover was poison, she knows it was.

“Well, what else could it be?”

“I don’t know,” Dr. Hyde sighs, “That’s what I’m trying to find out,”

“He’s going to be okay, though, right?” Clare panics, “You can save him, can't you?”

“Right now, we just need to stabilize him, cause he’s slipping away. Is there anything else that you can remember? Any little detail?”

“I already told you everything. Do something!” Clare cries.

“Look, I understand you’re frustrated, Miss Logan, I do. But I need something to treat. And, right now, there is no explanation. It’s like…”

Clare's not listening anymore, dumping out the contents of Michael’s backpack onto a table. She doesn't believe in magic but she needs a miracle. Nothing is making any sense right now and she hates that she doesn't know what to believe.

Michael's always believed in these fairytales because they're the only thing that makes sense but magic? 

Can she really believe the answers to everything that's happening comes from fairytales? She's read Michael's book and knows that they are not the traditional fairytales she's grown up knowing but maybe, there's a reason for that.

Maybe all she needs is to believe, if not in Michael, then maybe the stories.

Maybe believing is all she needs to believe in the curse, in magic.

“Like magic,” she breathes, picking up the book. As soon as her fingertips touch the spine, her mind fills with memories from the Fairy Tale World, seeing her parents hold her for a few moments before her mother pleads with her father to take her to the wardrobe.

When she comes to, Mariana frantically rushes into the room.

“Where’s my son?”

“You did this,” Clare whispers before turning to the mayor, grabbing her by the collar and dragging her to a storage room. As soon as the door closes behind them, Clare throws her against a storage rack, continuing her assault while Mariana struggles to defend herself before Clare ultimately pins Mariana to the wall.

“You did this!”

“What the hell are you doing? Stop this! My son-”

“Is sick because of you! He stole the apple turnover and he ate it!” Clare seethes.

Mariana blanks, staring back at her. “What? He took the turnover. I thought I had misplaced it,” she says, but Clare is not amused.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” she demands.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s true, isn’t it? All of it,” Clare shouts, shoving her against the wall, referring to the stories and the curse.

“Yes,” she concedes.

Clare still can't believe that the stories are true but she never thought that things would ever come to this. She's only been in town for a few weeks, had only started to get to know her son and now, his life is on the line. Clare hadn't done any real harm but she couldn't very well leave without making sure Michael was all right. He was the reason she stayed.

“Why did you do this?”

“Because as long as you’re alive, Michael will never be mine!” Mariana cries.

“He’ll never be anyone’s unless you fix this. You wake him up!”

“I can’t!”

“Don’t you have magic?” Clare wonders.

“That was the last of it. It was supposed to put you to sleep!” Mariana counters as Clare finally releases her grip on her.

“What’s it going to do to him?” she wonders.

“I don’t know. Magic here is unpredictable,” Mariana muses.

“So… So he could…”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“What do we do?” Clare cries.

Before Mariana can answer, she stops, hearing frantic calls from outside and something else more specific: _patient not responding_.

tbc


	22. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clare Logan doesn't believe in miracles but this changes things.

Emilia knows that she's numb, her heart is broken and she wishes that she were drunk right now but you can't get drunk from drinking two Shirley Temples. Still, she feels a deeper pang as she removes some dollars from her pocket and puts them down on the bar, wearily leaving.

She tried to get him to stay, he even admitted that he did love her but sometimes, love isn't enough. And that knowledge breaks Emilia's heart even more and she knows, it's going to take a long time to get over him.

The Dark Curse is meant to take away all their happy endings and she thinks, perhaps, this is her punishment for something awful that she did in a former life. She doesn't deserve love, not like this, not when it ruins someone else's life. That's not love.

That's something else, far more destructive than love.

She deserves this.

~~

 _Leaving is the right thing to do_ , William tells himself as he finally sets out from Storybrooke harbor. He can find a new place to call home, make a new life for himself, find love again even and start over. He needs to forget about Emilia.

He looks out onto the horizon, wondering if he will make it out beyond the point where he can't see Storybrooke anymore and he becomes less tempted to turn the ship around and go back, find Emilia and be with her like he wants.

There's still time to go back but he can't give in now.

He needs to do this for himself.

~~

“What is it? What's going on?! What the bloody hell is happening?!” Clare cries as nurses rush towards Michael's body. Dr. Hyde rushes to check the boy's vitals but his heart rate is dropping fast, slowly drowning out the background until the only thing Clare can hear is the slowly, steady pulse of the heart monitor.

Mariana doesn't move, watching the nurses trying to do everything possible to keep his heart rate steady but she knows it's too late. The poison from the apple is working faster than expected, running through his bloodstream and quickly killing him. Clare doesn't bother with her anymore, walking over to the foot of the bed, looking at Michael's body.

This boy is her son.

He doesn't deserve to be in a place like this, fighting to live.

She barely had the chance to get to know him in the few weeks that she's been living in town.

She can't lose him now. Clare Logan has already lost so much in her life and to lose Michael too, that is the cruelest curse imaginable

Suddenly, the pulse from the heart monitor fades into nothing and he's gone.

Dr. Hyde backs away and motions to the other nurses to do the same, as Mariana comes forward, tears slowly falling down her cold cheeks. This boy was her son and she used him to the bitter end, to ensure that the curse stayed in tact.

She couldn't love him the way a real mother should and because of that, she lost him.

They both did.

' _This can't be happening_ ,' Clare's inner voice cries as she walks to the side of the bed, unable to contain the tears anymore as she reaches out and gently fixes his hair, swiping it aside. She barely knows this boy, her baby, barely had the chance to get to know him and now, he's gone.

She gave him up once because she didn't think she could be raise him proper, he was her only company when she was alone and she's alone again.

' _This isn't right_ ,' she tells herself as she bends down slowly, tears still stinging her eyes, whispering, “I love you Michael,” and kisses his forehead.

This is her boy, her child...and...

Before she can even process what his death means, his eyes flutter open and inhales deeply as a wave of light bursts through the room and all around them. Mariana steps forward curiously as Clare looks at him disbelievingly. People don't just come back from the dead. That doesn't happen, but Michael's alive.

Clare Logan doesn't believe in miracles but this changes things.

Michael looks frantically around the room and then turns, staring back at her. “I love you too,” he cries, “You saved me,”

“You did it,” Mariana breathes.

~~

“Emma,” Killian breathes, bringing _The Jolly Roger_ to a stop, forcing him to almost fall over.

He looks down at the wheel and then to his surroundings, finding himself on a boat, Storybrooke harbor far behind him. He's leaving but can't fathom why. Killian puts the ship in reverse, turns around and heads back towards the dock at full speed.

There's somewhere he needs to be.

~~

Clare's still trying to process how a single kiss can wake a small boy from death when she begins to notice the curious strangers beginning to file into the room. Mariana sees them as well and starts backing away slowly as her and Michael look on.

“Michael...What’s going on?”

Michael studies the nurses and staff in the room, recognizes one of the faces as Mother Superior and he looks at Clare, smiling happily. “The curse. I think you broke it,” he reasons.

“That was true love’s kiss,” Mother Superior breathes.

“No, no…” Mariana cries as Mother Superior, Michael and Clare look at her.

“If I were you, Mariana, I’d find a place to hide,” Mother Superior suggests, looking coolly at her.

Mariana looks at Michael. She knows that she's lost, bartered everything on a curse that was meant to be broken, to set history right but it was all wrong. “Michael… No matter what you think, no matter what anyone tells you, I do love you,” she cries, smiling thoughtfully at him before fleeing the room.

~~

Emma's lost.

The last time she felt so lost, depressed, and alone, she ate a poisonous apple and fell into a brief sleep that couldn't have been more than a few hours. That is, until Killian found her and awoke her.

She's awake again but this isn't fairytale land. This is Storybrooke, Maine and she can't find her husband or daughter.

Her husband, Killian, he could be far away from Storybrooke by now, since the last time she saw him, he was determined to sail far away from her; or he could be hurt because the curse hadn't been broken yet and he could be lost, like she is.

All those fears drift away as she hears her name.

Emma turns slowly, looking down the street for the person calling after her and she freezes, seeing his blue eyes staring back at her. It's him. He's not gone after all.

“Killian,” she breathes, running towards him as he runs towards her, clutching at her blouse. “You found me,”

“I told you lass, I'll always find you,” he breathes as she leans up, kissing him.

If Killian could kiss Emma forever, he would but there's something that they both need to do: find the daughter that they lost.

All this time, she was Emma's roommate, staying in town for the boy that she gave up more than a decade ago and she broke the curse, just as Rumpelstiltskin predicted she would. She did it, she saved them all.

“Clare,” Emma breathes between kisses, “we need to find her,”

“It's true then,” Clare interrupts, Michael standing beside her.

The last time Killian held his daughter in his arms, she was a newborn and he was a father for less than five minutes, as he charged his way from the room he shared with his wife to the nursery, sword in hand, defending her against the witch's minions at the same time. He remembered placing her in the wardrobe, kissing her tiny forehead and prayed that she would find them and break the curse.

Now, she's a grown woman, dark hair, pale skin and eyes like his.

Emma can't believe it either, looking at the woman before her, who she used to think was nothing more than annoying and meddling roommate. Clare's uncertain, standing still as Emma walks towards her slowly, bracing her cheeks, smiling at her thoughtfully. “You...you found us,” she cries, hugging her finally.

Clare doesn't know how to respond, doesn't even know what to say but she knows that she isn't alone anymore. She's found the family she thought didn't want her.

Killian's there, hugging her as Michael studies the trio curiously.

“Grandpa?”

Emma starts laughing and Killian does too, beckoning the boy to join them.

“Your highness?”

Emma turns, looking behind them and smiles as the seven dwarves, her godfathers come upon them, bowing in her presence. Grumpy steps forward. “The curse, it's broken?”

“Looks like,” Killian muses as Red suddenly leaves the diner, coming out to the street to join them. He doesn't recognize her worried look until she comes closer to them, and Emma turns around, looking at her. “Red, what's wrong?”

She only points to a cloud of purple smoke coming their way. Clare holds Michael close to her, as Killian wraps his arms around his wife. “What the bloody Hell is that?” Clare cries.

“Something not good,” Michael whispers and Clare holds him closer, shielding him.

tbc


	23. Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ready for this, to relate; figure out what kind of relationship we could have,” Clare reasons, “I've been on my own most of my life and now, I'm not only reunited with you – which is still wonderful – I have a whole other extended family I didn't even know about and I'm still trying to figure out where I fit. But most of all, I'm still trying to figure out how I can relate to you two in a way that makes sense to me,”

_This might be the end of everything_ , Clare realizes. But when she opens her eyes and she's still there, Michael's still in her arms and her parents are beside her, she breathes a sigh of relief. For now, until she figures out what that purple smoke was. She looks over at her parents, former roommate and priest – her parents, she reminds herself.

It's still odd but she can't pass off remembering her fairytale life as a hallucination.

“What the Hell was that?” Clare cries, letting go of Michael.

“Who did this? What was that smoke?” the dwarves echo.

Clare looks again at her parents and Michael. “I think,” she starts, “I think we need to get out of here. We should be able to leave right? The curse is broken,”

“But what about that smoke?” one of the dwarves ask again, “Last time I checked, that's not normal. What was that?”

“Magic. It’s here. I can feel it,” Mother Superior interrupts, as Clare, Emma and Killian regard her wearily. “Trust me on this, I know magic and that was it,”

“You were working with the evil witch,” Clare retorts, “Why should we trust you?”

“Because she was under her thrall,” Michael realizes, “The evil witch doesn't have many allies from fairytale world, but she must have had some magic left over to be able to put the Blue Fairy under her thrall,”

“And cook up a poisoned apple turnover,” Clare muses as Killian and Emma look worriedly at her. “Meant for me,”

Emma shakes her head and looks back at the Blue Fairy, crossing her arms. “So that was magic, why is it here? Who made it come here?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Grumpy interrupts, “The evil witch brought it, to even the playing field. Clare broke her curse and she summoned magic to get back at her,”

“No, wait. It wasn’t Mariana,” Clare reasons. “She didn't do this. Someone else did,”

Killian steps forward tentatively. “But if she didn't bring it, who did?” he asks.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” Emma realizes, “He's the only other person in this town who would need magic just as badly as Mariana would,”

Clare looks at her skeptically. “Rumpelstiltskin? Seriously? The imp who spins straw into gold? He's here too?”she wonders.

“He is,” Emma adds, “We find him, we get our answers,”

Clare sighs, looking at Michael and then to the dwarves. “Can you watch him?” she asks. Grumpy comes forward.

Michael looks between them and her. “Michael, I need you to be safe. I'll come back for you later, I promise. Go with the dwarves for now and I'll --” she looks at her parents again. “try and figure this out. You'll be safe with them,”

“Okay,” the boy agrees and goes to Grumpy but looks back at her. “I love you,”

“I know kid,” she says, watching him leave with the dwarves before turning back to her parents. “All right, let's deal with this – Rumpelstiltskin. Where do we find him?”

“Clare wait,” Emma cries, “Before we – is there anything that you want to ask us? You must have questions,”

“The only thing I'm concerned about at the moment is where to find Gold-stiltskin or whoever the bloody Hell he is,” she retorts.

Emma glances at Killian. “I think what your mother is trying to say is, shouldn’t we talk about ‘it’ first?” he reasons.

“What?”

“Us, your life, everything?” he muses.

Clare sighs, massaging her forehead, looking wearily at him. “Can we do everything maybe later? Like, with a glass of wine. Or…several…bottles,” she pleads.

“I know it’s a lot to take in – for all of us,” Emma adds.

“And we don’t want to push, but we’ve waited for this moment for so long...”

“Yeah, so have I!” Clare cries, “I’ve thought about this moment my entire life. I’ve imagined who you might be. But, of all the scenarios that I concocted, my parents being… I-I just need a little time. That’s… That’s all,”

Clare knows that is not the reunion her parents wanted, she pictured it would go differently herself but the situation, isn't that simple to reconcile especially over the course of a few hours. The trio doesn't notice a man running up to them but the closer he gets, Emma recognizes him as the town psychiatrist.

“There you are,” he says, coming up to them. “Come with me. I need your help. Dr. Hyde’s whipped everyone into a frenzy. They’re going to Mariana's house. They’re going to kill her!”

“Great, let’s watch,” Killian reasons.

“No. No, we cannot stoop to her level. No matter who she is or what she’s done, killing her is wrong,”

“He’s right,” Emma adds, “We have to stop them. If the Blue Fairy is right and magic is here, Mariana could have her powers back. They’ll be marching into a slaughter,”

~~

“Open up Mariana!” Dr. Hyde yells, pounding on the mayor's font door. “Open up or we're coming in!” He bangs on the door again, but upon his third, the door opens suddenly and there's Mariana, all smiles.

“Can I help you?”

“That smirk isn't gonna last forever, Mariana. You took everything from us, and now..” Hyde threatens.

“What? Now you're gonna kill me?” she taunts, amused that the doctor would even have the guts to threaten her.

“Eventually. But first, you need to suffer,” he says evenly.

Mariana steps outside, shoving Hyde off her porch, not amused anymore. “Listening to you has been enough suffering for all of us,” she retorts, looking to the crowd. “That's right. You wanted to see a witch? Well, my dears,” She raises her hands, flipping her coat tails back, “ _ **Here.. she... IS**_ ,”

The crowd braces for impact as she flings her hands forward—but there's nothing, not even a spec of purple magic dust. Mariana's mischievous smirk fades; she was sure that her powers were back, magic certainly is.

The crowd quickly recovers and another man shouts the obvious – that she's powerless and another shouts to get her and the riot advances towards her.

Hyde gets to her first, shoving her against a column, raising his hand to her throat. “Now, where were we?”

“Let her go! Let her go! Let her go!”

Mariana and Hyde look back into the crowd as Emma, Killian, the Logan girl and a taller man arrives. They all look at each other briefly and Emma smiles, recognizing him as her father. Saved by the family Charming, how ironic, Mariana thinks, temporarily distracted until Hyde grabs her throat again.

“Why should I listen to you?” he retorts.

“Because I am still the Sheriff,” Charming declares and Clare looks at him curiously.

“You're the sheriff?” Clare asks.

Charming looks at her and then Emma and Killian. “Clare?”

She smiles at him reluctantly, “Hi,” she says weakly.

An angry shout from the mob brings them back to reality.

“Killing her isn't the answer. No matter what Mariana did, it does not justify this!” Clare retorts.

“We are not murders here,” Emma adds.

Hyde shrugs, a firm grip still around Mariana's neck. Back in their world, witches like her would have been burned at the stake for such treachery and he's within his right to call for the townspeople to urge them to do so now. The only thing standing in his way of utter chaos are the family Charmings. “Well, we're not from this world. The old rules don't apply anymore,”

“Yeah, well, you're in it now and this isn't justice,” Clare declares. “Stand down,”

Charming stalks towards him and Hyde reluctantly backs down, Mariana breathes a little more easier, glaring at him. “Okay, Hyde, we're done,” he says, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Hyde shrugs him off and Charming looks him curiously in the eye. “Back off. You're not my Prince,” he retorts.

He studies him again wearily. “Who are you, Hyde?”

The good doctor fixes his shirt, “That's my business,” he sneers.

“Well, my business is making sure this town doesn't go to hell, so, whether or not I'm your Prince isn't the issue. We have a lot to figure out and this isn't the way to do it,” Charming assures him as Clare moves next to Mariana.

“And Mariana's death won't provide any answers. She needs to be locked up. For her safety.. and more importantly; for ours,” she adds, looking again to Charming, her grandfather, the sheriff. “You'll take care of this? Lock her up where she can't hurt anyone?”

“I'll take her down to the station,” he vows, stepping forward and grabbing both of Mariana's arms, looking back at Clare, smiling. “It's good to meet you kid and thanks,”

“For what?”

“Saving us, saving your family,” he says, looking at his daughter and Killian. “She's beautiful,”

Emma looks at him thoughtfully as he drags Mariana away escorting to the sheriff's office. Clare sighs, shoeing away the rest of the crowd whom reluctantly disperse. She looks over at Emma and Killian before starting down the path away from Mariana's porch. Emma and Killian follow her.

“Clare, wait,” Emma calls after her.

“I know this town has issues but seriously, inciting a mob?” she says wearily. “There are more civilized ways to deal with this,”

“Are there better ways to deal with our situation?” Emma asks. “I know you don't want to talk now but I need too,”

Clare sighs, looking between them. “I- Well, I don't-- I just- I don't wanna talk,” she cries.

“Well, I do, okay? Gold can wait, I can't. I...I know we were roommates for a few weeks but we weren't close. You're my daughter and I – we want to get to know you as I'm sure you want to know us,”

“I do want to get to know both of you but I can't deal with this now,” Clare says, looking up and down the street where to find this menacing imp Rumpelstiltskin.

“Clare, please,” Killian begs, looking at her seriously. “Rumpelstiltskin can wait, your mother and I can't. You're our child – you were a child and now, you're a grown woman. We missed so much of your life and you're pulling away from us, and we only want to get to know you, Clare,”

“Okay. What do you want to know?” she counters.

Emma relaxes, looks at Killian and then to Clare again. Twenty-eight years apart, there's so much she could ask but it's probably easier to start with the basics. “I don't know, what are favorite foods? Your likes and dislikes?” she asks.

Clare hesitates a moment. She's really not ready for this and doesn't want to hurt her parents feelings but they really need to find Gold. “I – the truth is, I really am not ready for this,”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready for this, to relate; figure out what kind of relationship we could have,” Clare reasons, “I've been on my own most of my life and now, I'm not only reunited with you – which is still wonderful – I have a whole other extended family I didn't even know about and I'm still trying to figure out where I fit. But most of all, I'm still trying to figure out how I can relate to you two in a way that makes sense to me,”

“We're your parents, what else is there relate to?” Emma questions.

Clare sighs again, feeling more tired than anything else. It hasn't even been 24 hours and she hasn't even had the chance to breathe, stand back and fully examine the situation. “It's been a rough couple of hours. I almost lost my son, I broke a curse I didn't even believe was real ..” she starts.

“Clare!” Killian interrupts, “We've waited too long – we have to talk about this. We didn't abandon you. We were cursed, desperate and saving you was our only choice,”

“I know,” she soothes, “but no matter what the circumstances, for twenty-eight years I only knew one thing; that my parents sent me away,”

“We did that to give you your best chance,” Emma reasons.

Clare wearily smiles at them both. “You did it for everyone, because that's who you are; princesses, pirates and heroes and that's amazing.. and.. wonderful. But it doesn't change the fact that for my entire life, I've been alone,” she reasons, remembering most of her life being a tough and hard 28 years.

Emma doesn't want to admit that she was wrong, Rumpelstiltskin foretold that her daughter Clare would break the curse and she did but the price of breaking the curse, meant separating herself from her for 28 years, letting her grow up without her but... “But if we hadn't sent you away, you would've been cursed, too,” she reasons aloud.

“But we would've been together. Which curse is worse?” Clare counters, looking at them both. “C'mon, let's go find Gold,”

Clare starts walking off but sighs, turning around suddenly, catching sight of Emma reach for his hand and hold it tightly, regret in her eyes over past decisions. She's a parent now, Clare should know something about regret but then she reminds herself, when she found out that she was pregnant with Michael, Clare didn't have the means to take care of him.

She had no other choice but to give him up and Emma, her mother, had no other choice too. It was to save her, save the kingdom in the hope that one day, she would fulfill her duty and break the witch's curse.

“I'm allergic to strawberries,” she says as they look at her hopefully, “--even though they're my favorite. I've lived in about three cities in my life but my favorite's always been Boston. I started out as a bartender and always dreamed about opening my own restaurant, being my own boss but rent's too high to even make that dream come true,”

Clare walks closer towards them, smiling peacefully, “I love chocolate, it could be light or dark chocolate – I don't really care as long as it's chocolate which I'm thankfully, not allergic to otherwise that would be a very big problem for me,” she looks to her father, “And I'm really sorry about this one but I don't like seafood,”

Killian studies her a moment before clearing his throat. “So, you don't like seafood – I'm not terribly offended by that,” he says, to which Clare smiles at him thankfully.

“And Michael's father?” Emma wonders.

“He's not important,” Clare says quickly.

“Clare,”

“Not a subject of discussion,” she repeats, “at the present,”

“That's fair, for now,” Emma agrees

Clare smiles at them thoughtfully. “Now, you know a little something about me and I'm sure, I'll have lots of time later to get to know you both but right now, we really need to – “

“Find Rumpelstiltskin,” Emma finishes, “Let's do that then,”

tbc


	24. Never Alone Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought that you had abandoned me and maybe I was damaged goods or something. The possibility of a witch's curse or that my parents are characters out of a fairytale – you're real,” she looks at Charming, “You're my grandfather,” she says and looks at Snow, “and my grandmother. Who would have thought I'm descended from Prince Charming and Snow White,”

Clare doesn't really have a plan once they finally walk into Gold's pawn shop. All this time in Storybrooke and Clare never had the opportunity to make the acquaintance of the man who owned the town. She had heard about Rumpelstiltskin of course, she knew the stories – or at least the ones she was familiar with growing up. Clare notices the spinning wheel in the corner but no Gold until he comes out from the back.

“Ah, Miss Logan, what can I do for you?” he greets, noting Emma and Killian behind her.

Clare stalks over to him, her knuckles itching to make a fist. She's typically not a violent person but she does know how to throw a mean punch if necessary. “What you can do is tell us what you did,” she seethes.

Gold sighs, leaning on his cane. “I'm sorry, you're gonna have to be more specific,”

“You know damn well what we're talking about,” Killian retorts.

“You did who knows what to this town!” Emma adds.

“My son almost died today,” Clare says bluntly, “and I'm almost willing to bet, you had something to do with that,”

Gold studies her carefully. “Well, that is quite a litany of grievances now, isn't it? I'll address the last one first, for you Miss Logan. I had nothing to do with Michael eating that turnover. I did however warn Mariana that all magic comes with a price and she ignored me, determined to do whatever it took to get rid of you,” he says.

“So Michael ate the turn over on his own. You still could have stopped Mariana when you had the chance,”

“But it wasn't my place to break the curse, dearie; that was your task and you did it. Congratulations for that,” Gold counters, “Now, allow me to answer your questions with some of my own, all right? Did your dear boy, Michael, survive?”

“Yeah,”

“The witch's curse is broken and let's see, Miss Logan, how long have you been searching for your parents? Looks like you're reunited. Seems like I deserve a thank-you,”

Clare looks at him icily. She knows guys like him, always twisting the bad things they've done back onto the other person but in this case, everything is true. She is reunited with her parents finally, Michael did survive and Mariana's behind bars where she belongs.

“Twist my words all you want. What was the purple haze that you brought?” Clare questions.

Gold smiles, raising a finger. “Y'know...Magic,” he chimes.

“Why?” Emma wonders.

“Not telling,” he retorts, “I will offer you this piece of advice, free or charge, Miss Logan,”

“What's that?”

“Relax,” Gold muses, “Go home, rest up and enjoy this time with your parents because tomorrow, things are going to get worse before they get better. But tonight, tonight is my gift to you,”

Clare glances at her parents and then to Gold again. “What's coming tomorrow?”

He shrugs. “Worry about that tomorrow,” he retorts, “And I promise, knowing Mariana is safe behind bars, no  
harm will come to her...for now,”

Clare doesn't want to believe him, he is Rumpelstiltskin after all but a good night's rest doesn't sound like a bad idea either. She could use a good long rest, time to get her head together and enjoy the quiet moments with her family, her parents and grandparents.

“This isn't over,” she warns him, “So I would be very careful about your next steps, otherwise next time I won't hesitate to beat it out of you,”

“I'll be waiting Clare,”

Clare turns to her parents before stalking out of the shop. Emma and Killian glare at him before joining her outside as she checks her watch.

It's 4 p.m.

Half of the day is already gone and from the time she woke up to now, she saved her sons' life, broke a curse, reunited with her parents, helped stop an angry mob and met the most dangerous man in Storybrooke.

“I would like really to sing some karaoke right now,” Clare reasons aloud as Emma looks at her. “I know, I didn't appreciate it before but it would be nice,”

“Or enjoy that glass of wine,” she adds, “It has been a long day,”

“My boat isn't my boat,” Killian reasons, “The real Jolly Roger is bigger than whatever the bloody Hell that thing is Mariana created,”

Clare starts laughing and it isn't long before Emma is laughing along with her and Killian too.

“Let's go home Clare,” she offers.

~~

Clare's never really had a home. She's lived in different places but not a real place she could call home. She's always defined a home as a place where her family was: her parents, sisters, maybe brothers. Emma's flat is the closest they get and as soon as Clare walks through the door, the place feels different to her. It's not a flat or a temporary living space, but home.

She goes to her room and drops onto the soft bed, lying there a moment before coming back into the main room. Emma finds a bottle of wine and pours three glasses and as she hands her daughter and husband a glass and there's a knock on the door.

Clare sets her wine glass down and walks over, opening it a bit at first and then wider, as Michael runs into her arms and she happily embraces him. Mary Margaret and Charming are behind him, smiling at her. “Apparently,  
this little guy was a handful, even for seven dwarves,” he says, “We took him off their hands an hour ago,”

“Is everything all right now?” Michael asks.

Clare looks up at Charming. “Is everything okay? Mariana's locked up but we can't hold her for long,” she reasons.

Charming and Mary Margaret step into the apartment and Emma runs over to them both, hugging them. “Mariana doesn't have her powers and she's safe from the town – for now until there's a more permanent solution,” he reasons as Clare picks up her glass of wine again. “For now...what are we doing?”

“Not worrying about anything,” she reasons, “which is fine with me although I still have a craving for karaoke,”

“It's too early for that,” Emma reminds her, “but I do have a Wii,”

“This is weird,” Clare says suddenly and everyone looks at her. “It was weird this morning and now, I don't know what it is,”

“We'll take it one day at a time Clare,” Killian manages, “What matters is that we're together finally,”

She smiles at him thoughtfully. “I wanted this for so long and I had been angry with you for so long too because I thought,” she starts, feeling the tears swell in her eyes, “I thought that you had abandoned me and maybe I was damaged goods or something. The possibility of a witch's curse or that my parents are characters out of a fairytale – you're real,” she looks at Charming, “You're my grandfather,” she says and looks at Snow, “and my grandmother. Who would have thought I'm descended from Prince Charming and Snow White,”

“You're the savior,” Michael pipes, smiling, “and even if you didn't believe the curse was true, I knew that you would always break the witch's curse,”

Clare kneels down in front of Michael. “I should have believed you,” she cries, “You showed up on my doorstep on my 28th birthday with a story that my parents were cursed and you blackmail me into taking you home,”

He shrugs. “It was your destiny, Clare,” he reasons.

“I'm sorry Michael,” Clare cries, “I'm sorry for not believing you and everything,”

“It's okay,” he says, “I know why you gave me away. It's the same reason why they did: to give you your best chance,”

Clare hugs him again and turns back to her parents and grandparents. None of them know what she's been through, the kind of life that she's had and yet, before she was even born, all they knew was that she was the savior and she was going to save everyone. It's a lot of responsibility for one person, all lot of hope on the word of a crazy imp. She could have decided differently and then, they – her family – would still be cursed.

Destiny could have gone a different way.

“Hey,” Snow says, as if reading her thoughts, “We all believed in you Clare,”

“You barely knew me,” she cries, “All you knew was a name and the hope that maybe I would do what I was supposed to do. I could have chosen differently and then, none of this would have happened,”

“We had faith,” Charming reasons, “because that's the kind of family we are, and yes – you could have chosen differently and we still could have been cursed but we're family, and family always finds each other,”

She shrugs. “I looked for several years and I never found you, then again – I didn't think that my parents were actual fairytale characters or royalty for that matter,”

“Hey,” Michael adds, looking between his grandfather and great grandfather, “Can either of you teach me how to use a sword?”

Killian laughs. “I could. In my experience, former pirates are usually the best to teach young boys how to sword fight,”

“No,” Clare retorts, wiping her tears, “That is completely out of the question,”

Killian nods no at him but as soon as Clare's head is turned, he nods yes and winks at him.

“Prince's are better,” Charming adds, “for learning how to sword fight,”

“Don't I get in a say in this?” Clare wonders as Killian and Charming look at her. “No sword fights and no magic. All I want is a peaceful evening with my – _family, my family_ ,” enunciating that last term as they look at her thoughtfully. “I have a family, parents and grandparents who happen to be Prince Charming and Snow White. I didn't even believe in the curse yesterday and I broke it,”

“We always believed in you, Clare,” Charming assures her, “We will always believe in you,”

“Welcome to the family Clare,” Snow says and comes over to her, embracing her. “I remember a teenage girl that was as rebellious and stubborn as you are. Someone even once called her a 'stupid, naive, incredulous girl',”

Clare laughs. “Who's that?”

Emma raises her hand. “Guilty,” she says.

“But she's my girl and I don't care one way or another,” he says, kissing her cheek.

“I guess it runs in the family,” Clare muses, “There's still a lot none of you don't know about me, and even if I told you, I'm not sure that you would put me on a such high pedestal,”

Snow shrugs. “So, we'll get to know you in time,” she reasons and looks at Michael, “and you too,”

Michael smiles at her, and Emma does too. “Clare,” Emma starts, “I don't blame you if you're still lost and maybe a little angry ---”

“Oh no, I'm not,” she reassures her, “I just hope I don't disappoint any of you. Savior is a big title to live up too and as I understand it, only part of my job is done,”

“You won't be alone fighting,” Killian adds, “We'll fight together – as a family,”

She smiles at them.

“And you will never be alone again Clare,” her father promises.

Clare believes that and that feeling warms her heart, a feeling she thought that she would never feel: belonging to someone, belonging to a family she never thought that she would find. The world could end tomorrow but none of it matters because she has the one – two things she always wished for: _her family and a home._

The End


End file.
